The Brunch Club
by troopertrish
Summary: A closed off genius living by the expectations of others; a cheerleader with a mind more brilliant than people give her credit for; a talented athlete trying to prove his worth to his father; an optimistic environmentalist who has yet to experience life's painful tribulations; and a prodigious cellist living a hell of her own creation. Five people could not be more different.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Reader,**

 **I know I should be working more on my other two incomplete stories: That's So Raven and So Obvious.**

 **Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about them. I just couldn't shake this idea off anymore; it's been gnawing at the back of my mind, my head's hollow now.**

 **I'm hoping that writing a solid story would put enough pressure on me to keep updating all my stories. I know that sounds wrong, but it works in it's own sickening way.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. Apparently, DC owns them AND my heart.**

 **PS: I'll be posting songs in some chapters. Music is a great source of inspiration.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Richard Grayson, a political science major with the misfortune to be nicknamed Dick, was as reserved as he could be charming, which was a good thing since it steered people away from noticing how borderline bipolar he was. The adopted son of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, he had to endure premature stereotypes and ridiculously high expectations from people all around him. So, to keep up with the image that had been mercilessly set up for him, Dick ventured into various extra-curricular activities and groups, such as running for office in the Student Government; joining a fraternity; and playing for the university's soccer team.

Yes, he sounded like quite the busy douchebag, and he usually was. But right now, he was an unoccupied douchebag sitting in a lone cubicle in the library, pretending to read A History of Asian Trades when he was actually eyeing people sitting around him. It was a fascinating way to spend the time – snooping at people and trying to figure out what kind of person they were. Which is why he'd been doing for the past two hours.

To make him feel less of a stalker, Richard took the initiative to name each of the people he'd shamelessly shadowed with his eyes.

First, there was Cyborg. From what he'd observed, the guy was an athlete. He was tall, had the built of a football player and wore matching Air Jordan's with the guys he'd entered the library with. The varsity jacket was also a dead giveaway. Another thing he observed was the ridiculously thick book on robotics he was currently hunched over. He'd been reading it for the past hour, silently mouthing the words. Physically and mentally capable; Richard admired a man like that.

Then, there was Starfire. Richard was literally blinded when she stepped inside the annex. She was gorgeous and looked like the sun with her tan skin and scarlet hair. Three observations: she was popular, she was a double major, and she was really pretty. He could tell she was popular by counting the number of people she'd made small talk with while waltzing between the aisles. Seven. And she'd just went through three aisles. He could tell she was a double major with the sections of aisles she was walking through. Business and Art history. And he could tell she was pretty by how long he'd been staring at her as she bit her lip, scanning the business shelf.

Beastboy was next. He was impish, mischievous and full of trickery. Yes, Richard was aware that all those were synonymous adjectives. He looked like an angel with his blonde hair and baby blue eyes. Then he took a wad of gum from his mouth and stuck it under the table. Afterwards, he procured a pocketknife and carved some animal symbols on the table. He was the devil in disguise. But those carvings were damn good. Richard favored the robin carving out of all of them.

And finally, Raven. Richard felt a bit guilty as he observed her; he felt as if he was watching something he wasn't supposed to. Truth be told, he'd learned almost nothing about her aside from the fact that she was a member of the university orchestra. The cello case standing beside her was just screaming that. And that was all. He didn't even know what she looked like as she was sitting with her back to him. The nickname came to him because of the raven tattoo on the nape of her neck.

Two hours of stalking and Richard finally decided that he'd stalked enough. He was already late for Sociology. It was not a class he was excited to get to; he already knew enough of how society worked through the charity galas he attended back in Gotham. To put it plainly, everyone was in cahoots with everyone.

He sighed as he gathered his bag and stood up. To his surprise, he saw all his stalking subjects stand up as well. Cyborg slung his backpack over his shoulder; Starfire gathered her books; Beastboy took his wad of gum from under the table and popped it back into his mouth; and Raven pulled her earphones out and grabbed her bag and Cello case. They all walked out of the library in an unplanned line, Richard holding the back as he eyed them curiously. A suspicion was growing at the back of his mind, but he decided to ignore it until it was safe to presume anything.

They passed Cameron hall and the five of them were still heading for the same direction. Now, it was safe for him to presume. Richard now entertained the idea that maybe – _maybe_ – they had the same class. But he shook that idea off as quickly as it came. They obviously had different courses; the chances of them taking the same Sociology class was near impossible. Fate wouldn't be that funny, would it?

His class was just a couple more rooms down the hall, and none of his stalking subjects had veered off. A strange kind of hope bloomed inside him. Was it possible?

He could not stop the grin that appeared on his face as he watched Cyborg, Starfire, Beastboy and Raven enter his Sociology class one by one.

Oh, Fate was hilarious.

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 **Leave a review, suggestions, complaints, or most preferably, a cookie.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello Reader,**

 **here is another chapter for your amusement.**

 **Special shoutout to those who gave me the honor of their reviews, thanks so much. And i agree with the majority - the "titans going to school" AU is def. not my favorite, either. it's a fanfiction genre that tends to be abused or overly-cliched. But, I'm graduating form college this sunday, and I guess i got nostalgic. let's just say that all the friends and people I've met in college have a very strong influence in this story. It's safe to say that i'm taking a more grown-up approach to this story.**

 **anyway, these first few chapters will be light. a dabble on each character's POV to let you get the feel of each one before i progress the story into more serious tones.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Rachel placed her head on her hand as she leaned against her armchair. It was a deceptive position; she seemed like she was listening when in fact, she had both earphones stuck in her ears, strategically hidden by her hair. It was the second time she'd taken this subject and it was just as boring now as it was then. She could do without her professor's redundant and irrelevant ramblings or her classmates' snotty, judging looks. If anything, her class was the perfect model of how society works.

Sociology. It was a period where students of all walks of life realized that other people outside of their clique existed. It was a melting pot of people so diverse, there was almost nothing in common between them but sociology. Even the air they breathed was different; the AC units inside the frat and sorority houses were definitely way better than the ones in the dormitories, which Rachel suspected had been around longer than she was alive.

Which brings her back to her classmates. No one knew each other, and no one cared. They just wanted to pass. Awkward conversations and polite jokes were the closest to friendship you'd get in this class. Everyone was just taking from everyone so that they could get through the subject. Typical societal system.

Rachel cranked the volume up as the professor droned on, effectively drowning his voice out with the blissful tones of Passion Pit. She knew she should be listening; doing exactly what she was doing right now was the reason why she was repeating the subject. But for the love of all things good, she just couldn't muster enough strength to care. She didn't even feel the least bit guilty about it.

A blur of scarlet caught her peripheral vision and she turned slightly, just enough to see but still keep her earphones hidden from sight. She was greeted with the tallest, most statuesque woman on God's green goodness. And she sat right in the middle of the room, where every hot-blooded male - or bi-sexual female, could ogle at her freely. So, Rachel ogled.

She must've been staring long because the perfect specimen of a woman turned and met her gaze, bright emerald eyes looking at her expectantly. It took a second longer for Rachel to realize that all her other classmates were looking at her as well. Out of nowhere, a clammy hand grabbed at the cord of her earphones and yanked hard, pulling them and her head down.

"Miss Roth, listening to music during a lecture? I should have known," Professor Watson exclaimed with a sneer. "And I expected that you'd learn your lesson, this being your second try at my class."

"I apologize. It won't happen again, professor," Rachel answered, her mouth set in a grim line as she nodded her head.

Professor Watson squinted her way before he tucked her earphones inside his coat and continued with his lecture as if nothing happened. Rachel smirked, pulling out another set of earphones from her bag.

"I don't think that's a good idea," a voice said just as she was sticking one bud inside her ear.

Rachel turned and was met with the shiniest mop of blonde hair and the brightest set of blue eyes. she would have mistaken him for a cherub had she not been she sure that she was living in hell on earth. "Thinking is a dangerous pastime, sport,' Rachel replied, a hint of amusement in her usually monotone drawl.

"So is pissing off a professor in a class you're taking for the second time," the cherub-boy pointed out. His angelic face took on another look as he smirked mischievously. In a flash, he went from innocence to devious. "But I guess you already know that."

Rachel gave him a teasing smirk. "I know a lot of things."

Cherub-boy offered his hand for a shake, hiding it just beside his seat to keep the professor from seeing. "Garfield Logan. I like a person who laughs at danger."

Rachel looked at his extended hand, then to his baby blues. She shook his hand tentatively. "Rachel Roth. You're too friendly for my taste."

Garfield held his hands up in defense. "Hey, just making friends here."

"What makes you think I want friends?" and with that, Rachel turned back around and stuck the other bud inside her ear, ignoring Garfield, who clearly still had something to say.

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 **Do't hesitate to leave a comment, review or a gummy bear. i've been craving for them since last week. constructive criticism is a writer's bestfriend. that, and a gallon of coffee.**


	3. Chapter 3

**hello reader**

 **I am infinitely sorry for this shameful delay.**

 **I've been having a hard time balancing my schedule what with graduation and adult life ambushing me. Shit just got really real in my life.**

 **I hope none of you have been disheartened by my delays; I am not a writer who gives up on her stories and leaves them unfinished. Not any story, either my bleach ones, or teen titans ones. Take my word for that. I may be slow in delivering, but i will deliver.**

 **Hope you enjoy this.**

 **PS: can anyone teach me how to put a line break that is actually visible when you read the story?**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Garfield Logan walked through the lustrous grasslands that was the university campus, its green carpet occupied by students of all shapes, sizes and backgrounds. There was a group of musicians, plucking blindly at their guitars as tried composing a half-finished piece; there was a troop of dancers practicing in the middle of the field, doing a series of synchronized movement that just looked so damn beautiful; there was a couple sitting under the shade of a tree, the guy leaning down as he whispered – ok, that was not whispering. Garfield walked faster, averting his eyes to give them some privacy.

Striding through the lawn, Gar hiked his bag up higher up his shoulder, eager to reach the small university café where he was working. Bells chimed when he pushed the door open, rushing inside to put on his uniform before stepping behind the counter.

"Hey, glad you could make it."

A sharp jab to his side caused Gar to turn, although he already knew who did it without having to. Terra gave him a mischievous smile, tying her bright blonde hair into a ponytail as she took her place beside him. "We have new blood," she said, pointing towards a table in the corner.

Gar was greeted with the sight of one of the tallest human beings he's ever seen in his life. He was unnaturally tall; he couldn't have been a college student. As if being tall wasn't enough, the guy also had to have the most impressive built a male specimen could hope to have. Looking at the guy's arms made Garfield feel like his own were a couple of toothpicks. He was, without a doubt, a rather fierce looking fella, but his predatory image was broken by the constant fidgeting of his hands – he was nervous.

"What's he here for?" Gar whispered, not taking his eyes off the guy.

"Chef, apparently," Terra replied, scrunching her nose. "I know he doesn't look like it, but the guy can cook. And with Kevin moving away, the café's in desperate need of a chef. Or at least, a guy who knows how to flip a decent burger."

Gar whipped around and faced Terra this time, an almost comical look of disbelief in his face. "I don't get it, shouldn't we be flipping croissants and pastry stuff in this café?"

"I know!" Terra said, smiling wide and raising her hands in the air. "We might as well have turned this into a fast food joint."

"We have excellent coffee, though."

"True that."

Gar turned back towards the guy, taking his apron off and running a hand through his hair. "Do I look okay?"

"It's an interview, not a date," Terra murmured, not bothering to look away from the chalkboard she was now filling in with today's specials.

Slowly walking towards the guy's table, Garfield had time to notice a few other things about the fascinating applicant. One, he had a varsity jacket. He was most likely a football player. Two, he had one helluva big bag. It most probably contained heavy work out stuff. Three, the guy was nodding his head to the beat "Can't touch this" the café speakers were blaring out. 'If he found MC Hammer appealing even in this era, then surely, he was a guy worth hanging out with', Garfield thought.

"Hey," Gar said casually – or as casually as he could without seeming too excited – as he took a seat across the guy, who raised his head towards him instantly. "Garfield Logan." Gar extended his hand.

"Victor. Stone. Victor Stone," the guy replied, taking Gar's hand and shaking it. He gave a low chuckle and shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. I'm just a little nervous."

"Nervous? You've never been to a job interview before?" Garfield winced slightly at how demeaning that sounded. Victor just laughed it off though, much to his relief.

"I have, but not this kind of job interview."

Gar raised a confused brow. "What do you mean?"

Victor shrugged his shoulders, grinning nervously. "I mean…well...I've never applied to be a cook before. I guess I'm pretty confident about my skills in the kitchen, but who am I kidding? All my customers narrow down to just my dad, and even he can't finish a plate of whatever I cook."

"Dude, you don't have to be nervous about anything," Gar laughed. "We serve college students – they'll eat anything that costs them less than anything in McDonald's. As long as you know how to flip a burger or make spaghetti, you'll be fine."

At this, Victor scoffed rather smugly and folded his arms. "You ain't tasted my pasta yet, man. I can make Carbonara to save your soul." And this exchange started a series of teases and banters that made an interview that was supposed to last for five minutes extend to almost half an hour. It wasn't until Terra finally approached their table that Gar realized how fast time had slipped by.

"I gotta go, man," he said hurriedly, putting on the apron that Terra had grumpily thrown at him before walking back to the counter. "If I lose this job, you might end up replacing two people."

Victor stood up to thank him, rising to his full height and towering over Gar, who suddenly felt like a child under the shadow of the ridiculously tall man. As the two were shaking hands, Victor furrowed his brows and said, "I'm sorry, but you seem really familiar. Have I met you somewhere?"

"Not that I can recall," Gar replied, squinting his eyes.

It took a few seconds before Victor asked hesitantly, "Are you in professor Watson's class? That's the last class I took today."

Garfield's eyes went comically wide and a huge grin split across his face. "I do! Sociology?" he cried out, raising his hands in a who-would-have-thought manner.

Victor snapped his fingers and pointed at Gar, realization dawning upon him. "You were behind the girl with the earphones."

"Now, that girl was a character."

"I couldn't tell. Not that I could see much past that redheaded chick. She was literally shining, man – I was blinded."

"Now, _that_ girl was tall. Why are so many people here so tall?"

"It think it's the water, man. Jump City's got some funky water."

"Yeah, maybe. It does taste a bit mur-"

"Gar!"

Garfield wined at Terra's shrill scream, turning to look back for a second, only to be met by her glaring blue eyes. "Look, I really gotta go," Gar whispered. Victor nodded in understanding, hiking his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door the same time Gar headed for the counter. Just as Victor turned the knob ad opened the café door, Gar called out to him. "Hey!"

Victor looked towards the counter.

"Be here by 5pm tomorrow, man!" Gar shouted, grinning like a maniac. Hearing those words, Victor couldn't stop grinning himself. "Will do," he called back, giving a quick salute before heading out.

Garfield smiled to himself, eyes following Victor as he gradually disappeared into the crowd outside.

"Well, that was a quick one," Terra murmured sarcastically beside him.

"I like the guy," Gar said, eyes still transfixed at the spot where Victor had been a few seconds ago.

"I did not know you steered that way."

"Not _that_ way, Terra."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello Reader**

 **Two posts in one day!**

 **yes, i'm that guilty for leaving you hanging.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

Kori bit her lip as she waited, hoping and praying to whatever deity that would listen that the doors wouldn't open. Or if they would, that it would only be the secretary to tell her that her sister had gone on an emergency business trip and would not be back forever. She sighed, feeling the guilt well up inside her the instant that thought crossed her mind. She should be grateful; she owed her sister a lot. Owed her enough to let her treat her like a prop, and nothing more.

Her heart jumped to her throat when the door handles jiggled and she instantly ran off a few bullet points in her head, a habit that was as natural to her as breathing. Bullet point one: Straighten your back, Kori. No one's going to take you seriously if you're back slumping like the hunchback of Notre Dame. Bullet point two: Tuck your hair behind your ears. Your face is the only thing you've got. If you're going to be a pretty face, you've got to show your pretty face. And bullet point three: smile charmingly. Not that toothy grin you do when your genuinely happy, but that closed lip smile that says, "Hey, I'm Kori. And I'll do anything you want me to because I don't have any say in the matter."

"Your sister's ready for you, Kori," Mrs. Stevens said with a smile that made her ten years younger. Kori smiled back, a small genuine smile. Mrs. Stevens was kind, and was the only comfort she had when visiting her sister. Taking a deep breath, Kori walked through the great double doors into her sister's office. It was stylishly modern, set in shades of grey and white. Despite the sunlight into the room through huge glass windows that occupied one whole side of the office, Kori felt cold, as she always did when facing her sister.

Her sister. Her sister. What could she say about her sister? At first, it always seemed to elude Kori as to who her sister reminded her of. But on her last year in high school, she finally got it. Her sister reminded her of the evil queen in Snow White. Not Charlize Theron's version where the queen was too damn gorgeous to hate (Kori was actually rooting for Charlize in the movie), but the Disney version, where the evil queen was terrifyingly beautiful and flawless. Where Kori had naturally golden skin, blazing red hair and bright emerald eyes, her sister was pale, dark-haired, and had eyes as black as the pits of hell. It was a clever and precise comparison, but it made Kori feel bad.

She should be grateful; she owed her sister a lot.

"Kori." Her sister's cold voice woke her up from her stupor, causing her to look away from the desk where she had trained her eyes and towards the person sitting behind it. Her sister was regal, authoritative even in the way she sat. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I just came in, sister," Kori replied, her voice small.

Her sister leaned back against her chair and eyed her, her gaze roaming from head to toe as if inspecting her. "I have a gala to attend the day after tomorrow. I'll have Gaston deliver your dress to your sorority house. Do not be late."

"Who's hosting the gala, sister?" Kori asked. She clamped her mouth shut the moment the words left her, surprised at her own audacity.

Her sister raised an eyebrow, but did not scold her. "Bruce Wayne." And with that she waved her hand dismissively and returned to whatever business waited for her in her computer. Kori bowed her head and walked away. When she was near the door, she walked a little faster, eager to get out before her sister said anything else. She gave a brisk goodbye to Mrs. Stevens and continued walking down the hallway, down the stairs and out of the building. She let out a deep breath of relief when she finally arrived at the sidewalk across from her sister's building. She was safe.

Kori sat down on a bench as she tried to catch her breath, noticing how her hands trembled and the beads of sweat that ran down her temples. She shivered, and then laughed, noting how her voice sounded distant. Once again, she had gone into the dragon's lair and came out unscratched. She continued laughing, earning scornful and suspicious glances from a few passersby. As soon as her laughter died down, the familiar guilt welled up inside her. Her sister had only wanted to invite her to a gala.

She should be grateful; she owed her sister a lot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello Redaer,**

 **here's another one. Am really trying to keep the gaps between my chapters short - good Batman, pray for me.**

 **I apologize that the chapters are still too short; am ttrying to get the feel for every character. I do not want this to be another titans-to-school cliche, and the only way to avoid that is by taking them slow. I guess.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Richard ran through the cobblestoned pathwalk towards the University's main building, his shirt untucked on one side and his hair disheveled. He glanced up as he neared the massive, wooden doors, drinking in the sight of the magnificent building. It looked like an old church, with its stained glass windows and gargoyles. The building was one of the oldest infrastructures in Jump City, and Richard had always been awed at how structurally sound it still looked after all these years.

Pushing the gigantic doors open, he gave a friendly nod to the guard before ascending the stairs. He kept an easy pace, though, knowing that if he kept with his frantic sprint, he'd end up dead before reaching the third floor. Normally, he wouldn't bother to run for anyone else. If they wanted him, they could wait for a sensible amount of time until he got there. But this was Bruce, and despite of his recent rebelliousness and their bouts of petty quarrels, Dick knew very well that he'd do anything for Bruce.

Reaching the third floor, he resumed sprinting and rounded the corner without bothering to slow down. It was fortunate, however, that his excitement had caused him to be careless, for if he had been even just a tad precautious, he wouldn't have bumped into one of his stalking subjects.

The impact practically threw the both of them backwards, sending them sprawling unto their butts, their possessions flying and landing in a heap of mess. Dick shook his head, shaking off the colors that suddenly danced across his eyes.

"What the fucking hell is wrong with you?" a hoarse and clearly furious voice screamed at him. As his sight gradually cleared, he saw an enraged girl in front of him, her pale skin tinged with a slight blush from her anger, tendrils of her dark shoulder length hair messily splayed across her face. Her cello case lay beside her, along with her backpack and a dozen or more scattered papers. A second glance told Dick that they were sheet music.

It was Raven, his mysterious stalking subject.

Amused and bewildered, Richard took a few seconds to look at her, studying her features in a way he couldn't back at the library. She had strange amethyst eyes, thin rosebud lips that were currently set in a snarl, and an adorable pert nose. Everything about her was petite, from her oval face to her slender figure. Despite of her small built, however, she still looked fierce some as she stood up and gathered her cello case, inspecting it before she glared at him. If looks could kill, Raven would have a life sentence.

"I'm sorry," Richard managed to say, wincing as he stood up. He was sure he wouldn't be able to sit properly for the next few hours.

Raven gathered up the last of her papers and faced him, eyes as sharp as daggers, hatred emanating from her being and wafting over to Dick. She said nothing, but her silence was enough. She pushed her way past Richard, ignoring his shocked and indignant grunt, and proceed through the hall and down the stairs.

Richard followed her for a few more seconds before he went on his way.

Bruce was not an alumnus, but the University treated him like he was one. With the huge amount of money he gave for sponsorships and other university affairs, a cup of tea and a plate of scones during a late afternoon wouldn't be too much to ask. Richard entered the university chancellor's office without bothering to knock, knowing that Bruce and Dr. Hjorn would be too deeply engaged in the conversation to notice him come in. Sunlight spilled on the floor through tall windows, their heavy velvet curtains tied to the sides. The office was regal; one side of the wall was occupied by long columns of bookshelves, filled with books that were either so new, they shone, or so old that dust covered them like a thick blanket. There was a desk in the middle of the room, a grand fireplace on the far side, and just in front of it, a coffee table and a couple of lavishly designed armchairs.

Bruce and Dr. Hjorn occupied these chairs, talking. Richard knew that Bruce noticed his arrival with the slight nod of his head in his direction, but Dr. Hjorn kept on taking animatedly, oblivious to his presence. It was not until Richard stopped just a few steps away from them and cleared his throat that Dr. Hjorn turned towards him, hands rushing up to clutch his chest in surprise.

"Young mister Grayson, how long have you been standing there?" he asked, giving a weak smile. He was more startled then Dick had thought.

"I just arrived, Doctor," Richard replied politely. He did not know why, but something made him glance towards the window, overlooking the university courtyard where had had rushed through just moments ago. Standing beside a bench with her things perched on top of it and her Cello leaning securely beside her was Raven. His eyes lit up with dim amusement.

Dr. Hjorn kept talking, but whatever it was he was saying was drowned out as Richard kept looking at Raven. Squinting his eyes slightly, he could see that she was talking on the phone, and from her gestures, it must've been a heated conversation. He wondered if it had anything to do with him knocking her down flat on her buttocks.

"Richard?"

Dick jerked, standing straighter as he turned towards Bruce and Dr. Hjorn. The former had a questioning look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dick asked, ashamed.

Bruce's eyes narrowed on him, suspicious and curious. "Dr. Hjorn was asking if he could count on you to be present for the gala."

Richard nodded and put on a charming smile, intent on shaking Bruce off him. "Of course. I'd be honored to represent the council for the event."

"Splendid," Dr. Hjorn cried out, clapping his hand together in jubilation. Dick found it rather annoying; he would have gone without his invite anyways. It was Bruce's freaking gala. If he wasn't going as Richard Grayson the student body president, he was most likely to go as Richard Grayson adopted heir to the Wayne fortune. Either way, it would entail a lot of ass kissing.

Bruce gave Dick one last stern gaze before turning his attention to Dr. Hjorn, who was once again alive with enthusiasm at sharing his experiences at Timbuktu. Dick gave a short, polite nod before turning and letting a small grin break across his lips. He knew for a fact that Bruce has travelled to Timbuktu as often as a guy goes to the supermarket; Dr. Hjorn is trying to impress the wrong guy. Before he opened the doors to leave, he took another glance outside the window. The bench was empty. Raven was gone.

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 **comments, critiques, violent reactions and baby alpacas are welcome. seriously. baby alpacas.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello Reader,**

 **the starting pieces are finally coming together. (evil cackling)**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

It took all of Rachel's willpower not to drop her things on the floor and race back after the jerkwad who bumped into her. Her bum still hurt – she was sure she wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for the next couple of days – and her sheet music was now in disarray. To top it all off, she was late. There were consequences for being late.

She waited until she got to the courtyard before pulling her phone out and dialed a number she knew by heart. It was a number she'd called countless of times in the secret of the night. Calls during those times were usually passionate; calls made during the day usually asked for trouble.

"Where are you?" a smooth voice with an English accent asked.

"I'm on my way, just wait a bit," Rachel sighed, putting her Cello case beside her while she carelessly tossed her bag on the bench.

She heard an audible, indignant chuckle. "Wait? You want me to tell a whole orchestra to wait for you?"

"Rorek, I'm already at the courtyard. I just have to fix my sheet music. Some asshole barreled-"

"Spare me your excuses, Rachel," Rorek spat. "It's two days before the gala and you're all over the place. If you can't keep yourself together, I can find someone to replace you."

Rachel was silent for a moment, her face changing from surprise to disbelief in a matter of seconds. "Rorek," she tried to explain, but the words died on her lips before she had a chance to say them. She ran a hand though her hair, a sense of panic gradually rising up inside her. 'Rorek is mad. He's going to replace me,' she thought over and over to herself, her eyes going wilder with each second that passed. "Please," was all she managed to say.

Rorek let out a cold and insulting laughter. "Listen to yourself, Rachel. You sound pathetic. You wouldn't have to beg like this if you only follow everything I tell you." A moment passed before he sighed and added in a much deeper voice, "That's always the problem with you. Never listening to what I say."

Rachel could imagine how Rorek looked right now – his eyes narrowed and burning with a fire that was just as much anger as it was lust. Despite her growing panic, she felt herself heat up. "Please," she repeated in a softer voice.

Rorek did not answer her pleas, but instead, asked a question of his own. "Where have you been?"

Rachel stood up straighter, a sliver of hope crawling its way into her heart. "My father," she answered quickly. For all the things Rorek did not have patience for, he oddly had a huge amount of understanding whenever Rachel's father was involved. He knew of her relationship with her father, and whether the patience he had sprouted from pity or another, Rachel did not care. All she knew was that mentioning her father would put Rorek's anger at bay.

She heard another sigh from the other line. She knew he was contemplating on what to do with her. "Just get here as soon as possible. Any longer and I will start the rehearsal without you."

"I'll be there," Rachel said before closing her phone and gathering her things. She didn't even bother fixing her sheet music; Rorek was already dangerously temperamental on a good day, she did not want to push him to his limits when he's pissed. She walked briskly through the courtyard, her mind wandering back to Rorek's threat.

'I can find someone to replace you.'

Rachel doubted that very much. She was a prodigy, as countless people have already told her. Finding someone to replace her would be like finding someone to replace Meryl Streep. She chuckled under her breath; she was comparing herself to Meryl fucking Streep. She found it humorous how much she delighted in that comparison. Still, she wondered whether Rorek would actually hold true to his threat. Would he actually find someone to take her place regardless whether that person could play as well her?

It sounded like an empty threat, but nonetheless frightening. Hiking her bag higher up her shoulder, she broke into a jog, another wave of panic welling up inside her like a bubble.

* * *

 **comments, critiques, baby alpacas. teh usual suspects.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello Reader,**

 **Thank you so much for your messages. Although I would have loved to see a bit more baby alpacas (alpacas).**

 **I am so sorry for the errors, and thank you for being so patient and not spitting my stories out like a piece of grammar shit.**

 **Anyways, i Promise this is the last short chapter for the story (unless it requires a short chapter)**

 **so far the pieces are already in place. Hope you guys stick around to see it unravel.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

There was more to Victor Stone than just beefy arms and a raw talent for any sport known to man. He was intelligent, a trait which took most people, especially his professors, by surprise; no one ever expected the quarterback to be the first to raise his hand when asking for the velocity of something orbiting somewhere. But as he was fitting himself into a dark blue tuxedo in front of his mirror, he looked every bit of the gifted young man that he was. With dexterous fingers, he worked on the bowtie around his neck, tugging at the corners to fix it perfectly at the center.

"I told you I wanted to do that."

Victor turned and saw Karen standing behind him with a coy smile on her face. She had one hand on her hip, the other carrying a box he knew had his new shoes inside.

"Well, you took your damn time getting my shoes. You stopped by the fridge again, didn't you?" Victor accused playfully.

Karen let out a bark of laughter, setting down the box on top of Victor's bed. She raised both hands in a mock surrender. "You got me. I had another slice of your blueberry cheesecake." She walked towards him, straightening out the lapels of his tuxedo before resting her hands against his chest. She smiled up at him. "You're going to be a way better homemaker than I am."

Victor smiled lovingly down back at her. "That's why I'm gonna be staying home and you're gonna be working the late shifts."

"You wish," Karen snorted, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Aw, come on, Karen," Victor teased, "What are you gonna feed the kids? Froot Loops for breakfast, oatmeal for lunch, and hot pockets for dinner? Cuz' that just about sums up everything edible that you don't know how to burn."

Karen scoffed, taking the lid off the shoebox and throwing it at him. "I can prepare mac and cheese too! And as if you don't like my microwave dinners. Admit it, you do, gourmet boy."

Victor winced at the nickname but laughed nonetheless. "Can you just hand me my shoes, please?" he asked, pointing at the shoebox. "We gotta make sure I look decent in those. I don't want to give my dad another reason to frown at me."

Karen's smile faltered at that. "Victor-"

"Forget it. Just slipped," he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. He sat on his bed and hunched over, putting on the black dress shoes that Karen had picked for him earlier at the mall. Standing up, he smoothed out his tuxedo before looking at himself. He could barely recognize his reflection. Where was the rugged football player? Where was the young man who had a deep fascination for robotics? All he could see was a tall man in formal wear, strapping and intimidating. He ran a palm against his crew cut, surprised to see his hand shaking; he didn't even know he was nervous.

Karen's own reflection appeared beside his own, her arms wrapping around his torso as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "You look handsome," she whispered.

Victor met her eyes on the mirror, giving a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I don't need to look handsome. I need to look like someone who can make my father proud."

Karen looked up at him, her hand cupping his face gently. "He is proud of you, Vic. He just…he just doesn't know how to show it."

"Maybe because there's nothing for him to show."

"Hey," Karen said with a stern voice. "You listen to me, Victor Stone. Any father would be proud to have you for a son. You are an amazing person. And I'm sure your father sees that. He's just not the most expressive of people."

Victor sighed. He looked at himself in the mirror once more. For a moment, hope blossomed in his heart at the sight of his impressive form. He really did look like someone his father could be proud of. "Maybe you're right," he murmured.

"I am right," Karen corrected playfully. "Which is why I'm gonna be staying home and you're gonna be working the late shifts." When Victor opened his mouth to retort, she raised her hand to cut him off. "Oh, what are you gonna teach our kids, Victor? How to beat their girlfriends in Mario Kart?"

"I knew you were bitter about that!" Victor exclaimed with a snap of his finger.

* * *

 **Leave a Baby Alpaca (Alpacas)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello Reader,**

 **I know, it's been too long. But I'm back! and deprived of sleep. which strangely makes me creative enough to write.**

 **but not competent enough to proofread my stories, so expect errors here.**

 **I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. i just started working and I've been trying to get a hang of my schedule.**

 **So far, adult life sucks. It's just been a month and I already feel like I haven't slept for a year.**

 **Anyway, here's a chapter.**

 **Longer, like I promised, and with more content to give you clues to the storyies and personalities of each character.**

 **You'll find that each chapter will be written differently form one another, depending on which character is given focus on the chapter.**

 **PLease do not think that i am abandoning this story. never have and never will. trust me. I've got a whole folder full of half-finished fanfictions about various other characters.**

 **Hope you enjoy. and do leave comments. if you're toos tingy for that, then at leasssttt leave a baby llama.**

 **PS the ROman Numeral is just a divider**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

When she was a little girl, she used to dream of Atlantis often. It was a beautiful dream – the kind of dream that made you wish you were never anywhere but there. She dreamt of the deep, infinite blue surrounding her, but never drowning her. Sea creatures that were real or not, she couldn't tell, would swim around her in a kaleidoscope of colors. And she would walk, her feet sinking gently into the golden sand with each step, towards every direction, for in Atlantis, there was no place or time. And as she walked, she would get this feeling that she was looking for someone.

It was not until the last few seconds of sleep, right before she jolted awake to her mother's screams, that she would come to realize: Atlantis was not a place. It never was. Atlantis was a person. Atlantis was a girl.

III

Rachel's eyes followed the wisp of smoke ascending lazily from her cigarette. She had not bothered to change or wash herself when she arrived at her dormitory; she had dropped her bag on the floor and fell on top of the bed without even taking her shoes off. She had just woken a few minutes ago, and it did not take long for the self-loathing and disgust to rear their heads at her.

She could still taste him in her mouth, smell his scent on her skin, feel the burn between her thighs. It made her feel dirty. But she was complacent. She'd felt this way countless of times before. She often welcomed her own hatred of herself as it was an indication that she could still feel.

Tutting at her thoughts, she took one last inhale and dumped her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. She had to get ready for class.

The water was warm as it hit her bare skin, and Rachel sighed, leaning against the bathroom wall. For a few moments she stayed that way, her body slumped and her head hanging low. She stared at the rivulets of water cascading down from her hair and unto the bathroom floor, creeping their way through the shallow canals in between the tiles and towards the drain. How she wished life were that straight.

She was never straight. She was either twisted or bent beyond recognition or repair. It did not help that she was usually the one responsible for herself getting that way in the first place. Sure, people make mistakes, do stupid things, take "yolo" seriously. But they also tend to learn after the first or second occurrence of the same mistake. Knowing something's a mistake and keeping at it till your hurting yourself is just straight up messed up. That's some real masochistic shit right there.

Rachel chuckled at her thoughts. For some reason, her inner monologue sounded just like Aziz Ansari. At least her sense of humor was still intact, despite everything else.

It was half past noon when she finally got out of her dorm and headed for the courtyard. She walked slowly, taking the time to look at the people around her. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that she wasn't the only student alive. It made her feel good for some reason. It made her less lonely.

Approaching her were a couple of girls – good friends by the looks of their very close proximity. They were talking excitedly about something and one of them gasped, eyes bright with disbelief, and said, "You dirty slut!" they both passed Rachel giggling giddily. There were times when Rachel wanted someone to share conversations with. The real kind, where both parties are actually listening and empathetic, giving their own opinions and joking around. There were also times when she actually wanted to be called a slut in a heartfelt, playful manner. Not that she'd never been called that word before; she just got tired of the venomous tone it usually came along with.

Hitching her bag higher up her shoulder, she kept walking. She passed the spacious lawn where a statue of the university's founder stood erect. This was where the student council usually rallied for their speeches or events, or where the varsity football team hung out during their free time. At that moment, the football team and various other people were present there, sitting on the lush green grass or tossing a football around.

Is it called a football? If the sport was called football, and the instrument was also called football, wouldn't that be repetitive, if not confusing? How would you use them in a single sentence?

"In football, we throw a football," Rachel whispered to herself, her eyes squinting as she thought hard. She thought so hard, she failed to notice the guy standing just ahead of her until she unceremoniously bumped into him.

Her head snapped back into attention and her eyes narrowed to whatever poor soul she'd bumped into. She knew it was her fault, but would she ever admit that? Depends on how the guy reacted, she guessed.

"I don't believe it," was the guy's reaction.

Rachel's eyes grew slightly wider. "You," she whispered with contempt.

Standing in front of her was the ignoramus who had bumped into her the day before, spilling her sheet music all over the floor and making her late for practice, resulting into a heated argument with Rorek. An argument with consequences she was just beginning to reap. All thanks to this buffoon.

Before she could think of another witty yet significantly insulting name other than "you", the guy smirked at her and quipped, "You really have a knack of bumping into people, huh?"

"And you really have a knack of getting in my way," Rachel retorted, choosing to give up on the name game and ignore the guy. She was not getting late for class for this guy. Not that she ever cared about getting late before. She just wanted to get away from this moron.

"You're in my sociology class," he said, sidestepping to block her way.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Professor Watson?"

"He confiscated your earphones."

"I had an extra pair."

"99 problems and earphones ain't one of them."

"Get out of my way."

"Richard Grayson," the guy said, extending his hand towards her. "People call me Dick."

"I'd call you that too," Rachel answered, glaring at him before she took a stride around him and started walking away.

Dick. What sort of parents would name their child after a penis joke?

Rachel was just about to add a follow up to that thought when she felt a presence walking along with her. She turned to see Dick grinning, matching her fast strides with his slower, but longer ones. "You heading to class?"

"Leave me alone."

"You're at least half an hour early."

"None of your business."

"Won't you tell me your name?"

"Is this how you got people to vote for you?"

Dick barked out a surprised laugh, which irked Rachel. "So, you do know me."

"I knew you were Richard Grayson. I did not know you were called 'Dick'. That would have been hilarious to see in the campaign posters."

"I'm gonna take a guess and say that you didn't vote for me."

Rachel stopped dead on her tracks and faced him. "What do you think you're doing?"

Dick had the decency to look confused for a moment. Rachel had the decency not to shove her palm right up his nose and break it. "Come again?"

"DON'T come again," Rachel said through gritted teeth, putting as much venom in her threat." Fuck off." She gave him one more glare before she turned and walked. Dick did not follow this time.

It wasn't until she reached the hallway leading to her classroom that Rachel thought she might've been too rash with Dick. Picking a fight with the student body president wasn't exactly the sanest of things to do. If he holds a grudge, it's goodbye student body sponsorships on the orchestra's transportation services.

She handled the situation badly. She should have been calm, collected and reasonable, not Rambo with two machine guns firing. Maybe this is why she didn't have friends. Maybe this is why she didn't have anyone to gossip with, or why no one ever called her a derogatory slur in good fun.

She was twisted and bent in the craziest ways, and she doesn't even know how to react to situations anymore.

Sitting alone in the classroom, she sighed as the familiar feelings of self-loathing and disgust crept back, welcome friends during dark, brooding times like this. She was messed up and she knew it. She also knew she couldn't fix herself, even just to save her life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello Reader,**

 **I know what you're thinking.**

 **"Oh mah gaaahhhh. She posted a new chapter and it didn't take two months! she must be on something!**

 **I am actually on painkillers cuz my bitch ass molar has a cavity and it's hurting like hell. So, I can;t do much, cuz everytime i move somehow makes it ache more. So that's a good thing (i guess) cuz i''ve resigned myself to just sit on my bed and update my stories.**

 **I really want to keep on deling into Victor's character in this story; I have big plans for this guy.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **Feel free to leave a comment, review, and please, painkillers. i need them. Cuz dentists are the devil.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Had Rachel not bumped into Richard, the latter would have kept on staring at the football team lounging by the grounds, more specifically, at Victor Stone. Cyborg, as Richard had dubbed him, was leisurely passing a football with his friends, at times laughing along with their jokes. But it was clear that something was on his mind.

He had gone to see his father the night before.

Victor didn't know why he had bothered, but after seeing himself in the mirror, dressed in his finest formal attire, he had thought that maybe, just maybe, today would be a different day. Maybe his father would actually talk to him. But last night was no different than any other night.

III

"Hey dad. No…no…be cool, more subtle. HEY dad. Shit, that was horrible. Hey dad."

Victor sighed wearily, slumping against the wall of the university's technology and research lab. He'd been rehearsing how to greet his father for the past half hour, and every greeting sounded as pathetic as the last. Why did he even go here? To tell his father that he'd found a suit for the gala? The man wouldn't even turn around when Victor told him of his football scholarship.

Victor straightened up and took a step away from the building. Should he go inside? Another step. What for? Another step. Do you think he'd talk to you? Another step. He never talked to you before. Another step. Why did you think he'd talk to you now that he was here?

Victor stopped. He remembered the day he got the phone call from his father. He remembered the grin that was plastered on his face for the rest of the day after his father told him that'd he'd temporarily be moving to Jump City to work. He remembered sweeping Karen off the ground in a bear hug as he told her his father was coming. He remembered being happy, just because his father was here.

Victor looked back at the building, it's steel grey door looking less intimidating than it was earlier. Gathering his wits, or whatever was left of it, he took long strides towards the door, turned the latch, and went inside. The laboratory was dark save for the lights coming from the computer monitors. He walked slowly this time, making sure not to make any noise. He did not want to disturb his father; their relationship was strained enough without him disrupting his father's work. He found his father in his office, pouring over notes, a plate of steak and mashed potatoes untouched beside him. Silas Stone was only in his mid 40's, but he looked twice his age, with his sunken face and baggy eyes. He did not look up when Victor knocked on his door and entered.

"What do you need?" Dr. Stone asked, his eyes never leaving his notes.

Victor shuffled his feet nervously. "Um…hey dad."

His father still did not look at him. "Do you need money?"

Victor's heart sank, but he managed to force a smile. "Nah. I actually got a part time job in one of the university cafes. It'll help with money."

Only then did Dr. Stone look up. He eyed his son, obviously displeased. "A part time job? Can you even manage?"

Victor was confused. "Well-"

Sighing, Dr. Stone took down his glasses, placed them on his table, and gave his son a stern look. "Victor, football is already taking enough of your time. I doubt you have time to sleep, let alone study for your classes. I did not raise you to play football for the rest of your life.

 _You hardly raised me at all._ "I'm doing fine in class, dad. I've got high grades. I've never failed a subject."

"With this part time job, you might just start to," Dr. Stone replied with a scowl.

All at once, all the fears and insecurities that he had felt earlier came crashing down on him and Victor was overwhelmed with the need to leave. "I'll…I'll see you tomorrow, dad," he muttered, his head hung low. His father did not answer.

Victor walked out the lab in a hurry, shame and rage brewing inside of him like a storm. He had an irrational urge to punch something – or to hide somewhere and never come out again. The door was now right in front of him, but as Victor reached for the latch, he stopped. He listened.

Everything was quiet as he waited for seconds, then minutes. He waited for his father's voice to call out for him. He waited – wanted – to hear it so badly, that single, "Victor!"

III

"Victor!"

His father's voice never called out for him.

"Yo, Victor!"

He turned around and saw a lanky boy approaching him. It did not take him long to recognize the guy.

"Garfield," Victor said, grinning.

Garfield gave a smile of his own. "You remembered my name. Nice."

"I thought it was necessary to. Since we'll be working together and all."

"That's the spirit, man!" Garfield exclaimed, lightly punching Victor on the shoulder. "You on your way to class?"

"Aren't you?" Victor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah. I'm actually gonna wait out here for a little bit. I'm waiting on someone," Garfield explained, looking around with mischievous eyes.

Victor raised his hands, chuckling. "Don't let me interrupt your game, player." Turning around, he headed for class, thankful for Garfield's sudden appearance.

He did not like remembering his father. He did not like wondering what he could've done to make his father proud, or even just acknowledge him. God knows, he tried all that he could.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello Reader,**

 **I DEFINITELY know what you're thinking: OH MY GOOOOOOD two consecutive updates! this chick must be hiiiigghhhhh.**

 **Close.**

 **I just got really guilty for leaving you hanging for so long. I know the feeling. Waiting for a story to get updated sucks balls.**

 **Anyways, this chapter is more light, since I wanted to ease into the "they're all finally getting together" part without rushing it.**

 **AND, lots of you have been asking me about the pairings. I know i'll sound like an asshole, but, it's a surprise. All i can divulge is that not every relationship is what it seems, and what you see is not necessarily what you get. The re are gonna be pairings here, but I don't want to tell you what they are because I want to give focus on the storyline. I've actally plotted out the events days ago, and I decided to tackle a lot of serious things and issues in this story.**

 **the characters ARE in college. We've all seen real shit happen there.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **Do sacrifice a cinnabun to the unillama gods so that i might find the inspiration to keep on updating.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

Garfield Logan beat the clock by 3 seconds. He stepped into the room, hair disheveled and breathless, and not long after that, the second bell rang.

"Glad you could make it, Mr. Logan," Prof. Watson said in a dull voice, pausing from writing on the board long enough to glare at him. Teachers usually glared at you when you were late, not when you performed a miracle and arrived just in the nick of time. But Prof. Watson obviously did not appreciate mediocrity. It's either you're early, or you're not. In his book, you're on time when you're at least 5 minutes early, which was just too much for Gar.

Being 5 minutes early meant being one of the first students in the room. Gar had never even seen an empty classroom, let alone stayed in one.

He made a beeline for his seat and was glad to see that Rachel was already in hers. He should have been, considering the fact that he was almost late because he waited for her outside the building. He sat down quickly and leaned closer to her.

"Hey, I waited for you outside. How come I didn't see you?" he asked.

Rachel turned her head slightly towards him. Her brows were scrunched in confusion. "You waited for me?"

"Yeah. Outside the building."

"I don't recall setting a meeting with you."

"Your secretary must not have informed you."

"Why were you waiting outside the building? Why didn't you just wait outside the classroom?"

Garfield paused, his mouth ajar. She was right. He did not think of that. "Never mind that. You seem to be early for class," he teased.

"Why do you care?" Rachel replied, an edge to her voice.

"Caring is essential to a deep and meaningful friendship," Garfield answered matter-of-factly.

"You're not my friend."

"Yet."

At this, Rachel clicked her tongue and turned around to glare at him. "Why are you even talking to me? Why can't you guys just leave me alone?" She turned again, quickly grabbing her earphones and shoving them into each ear.

Garfield leaned back against his own chair. "You guys?" he whispered to himself.

The rest of the class passed by in a dull blur, with Garfield not bothering to pay attention as Prof. Watson droned on with the lecture. He was just starting to doze off when something hit him lightly on the head. He jerked, jumping slightly from his seat. His eyes settled on a crumpled piece of paper by his shoe. He bent down, picked it up and unraveled it.

 **Behind you. Fifth column, last seat.**

Gafield turned, not caring to be discreet. He grinned when he spotted Victor. For a moment, the burly guy did not pay him any heed, his face serious as he listened intently to the professor. After a few seconds, his eyes fixed with Garfield's and he grinned as well.

Garfield pointed a finger towards Rachel, who was oblivious.

Victor raised an eyebrow, not understanding. Garfield then pointed behind him, to the direction of the door, and Victor finally got it. _She's the one I was waiting for_ , was what Garfield was saying.

Victor pointed at Rachel, then tapped his wristwatch. _She came in early._

Garfield nodded. Then he folded his hand, making it look like a duck's bill, and made talking actions while shaking his head at Rachel, who was still oblivious. _She wouldn't tell me why._

Victor gave a knowing smirked and wagged his eyebrows. _Why would you want to know?_

Garfield rolled his eyes. _It's not like that._

Victor leaned back against his chair, crossed his arms, and grinned smugly. _Sure it isn't._

Garfield reached down into his backpack, fishing for a pen. He turned the crumpled paper and wrote something at the back. He then balled it up, craned his neck to see if Prof. Watson was looking, and upon seeing that the coast was clear, threw the ball towards Victor. Only it didn't fly straight to Victor.

By some unfortunate luck – that Garfield would later exclaim was not his fault – the ball went straight towards the tall, red-haired girl sitting somewhere in the middle. She gave a small, but clearly audible, cry of surprise when the ball of paper hit her by her temple.

Prof. Watson stopped immediately, closing his textbook and darting his eyes around the room. "What was that?"

Garfield and Victor held their breaths; the red-haired girl bent down and picked the ball of paper up from the floor. If she showed that paper to Prof. Watson, they would both be in for it.

To their utter shock and relief, however, she did not. She unraveled the paper, and upon seeing what Victor had scribbled earlier, turned around and scanned the seats with uncertainty. By this time, Prof. Watson had already resumed with the lecture and was otherwise preoccupied. Victor leaned over, ducking slightly, and waved at the red-haired girl.

When she saw Victor, she showed him the ball of paper and mouthed, "Is this yours?" Victor nodded, and she smiled. She took out a pen and turned back. Victor and Garfield exchanged confused looks. After a few moments, she turned back around and very carefully tossed the ball of paper to Victor, who caught it easily. Garfield waited patiently as Victor opened it.

At the back of the paper, Gar had written: **It's amazing how we understood each other without saying anything. We're drift compatible, bro.**

Below it, written in neat and pretty cursive: **Aim better next time. And you two might also be telepathic.**

Victor gave small chuckle and shot Gar a disbelieving look. He raised the paper and pointed at it. _You gotta read this, man._

Garfield raised both eyebrows. _Is it good?_

Victor raised a hand and folded the paper, tucking it inside his jacket's pocket. _Just wait till you read it later._

Garfield gave him an ok sign and returned to slumping on his seat. His eyes drifted towards the red-haired girl, who was listening attentively to Prof. Watson. He thought it was cool that she didn't rat them out. Taking a glance at Rachel, he grinned. This class seemed to have some pretty interesting women in it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello Reader!**

 **I'm a little tipsy, which i think is a great state to be writing. Here's a long chapter to get all your hopes up.**

 **let this chapter be a reminder that I am alive, and so is this story.  
i can;t begin to tell you how much I hate myself. The story's practically finished in my head, but my damn brain cant come up with coherent words to write it all down. **

**Anyways, hope you enjoy this. and remember: Nothing is at it seems in this story. Don't trust what you see at first glance. Esp witht he relationships, cuz ya'll love to ask me about those. terher.**

 **disclaimer: Teen titans belongs to DC.**

 **ps: pls leave a review or a baby alpaca. still not over those guys. I have a whole folder of baby alpaca pics.**

 **and if anyone knws anything about dentures, ring me up. I'm gonna have a tooth extracted, and it's permamenent, and right on sight when i smile. not good.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Richard was not at all shaken by Raven's (she did not bother to give him her name) outburst. It only piqued his interest some more, like a child who was told not to stick his finger in the socket. He knew he would get into trouble – or get a black eye – if he continued with his staking habits, but he could not help himself, not when he saw how opportune their situations were.

They were embodying the freaking six degrees so accurately, it almost scared Richard. Raven talks with Beastboy, who, apparently, is friends with Cyborg, both of whom have just been acquainted with Starfire. Add the fact that raven dislikes him into the mix and everything was complete. How could five very different people be connected this way?

His fleeting attention was brought back to the room when Prof. Watson slammed his book down on the table, surprising most of the students, which was probably his intent.

"An essay," Prof. Watson said, standing straight with his hands at his back. "I will be requiring a lengthy, meaningful and well-researched essay from you by the end of the semester. I'm informing you this now because I intend it to be a project spanning the next months. You will all group yourselves, like a small society with different communities working together, and make a study on how each of you interact with one another in the group. This study will then be the basis for your essay."

Groans were heard throughout the room. Obviously, no one liked the idea of working through such an elaborate project. Their forlorn reactions only fueled Prof. Watson, who smiled.

"Now, don't be so down, children" he chuckled. "It will be fun. Think about how much you can learn from one another; how you'll see each of your lives working like gears inside a bigger machine that is society."

Prof. Watson went on with his metaphors, but Richard wasn't paying attention. A group project. He looked at his stalking subjects, an odd feeling creeping inside him. It was apparent that they did not belong with these batch of student, and would most likely not know anyone here. Would he dare ask them to join him, forming a ragtag team of strangers whose only thing in common is that he's been following them very closely for the past days? Better not mention that part when recruiting them.

Raven was going to be tough. He was clearly on her shit list; the odds of her joining him would be minute.

Starfire would also be tough, seeing as she's popular despite the fact that these aren't her peers. Others might want to invite her too. He'd have to act fast and invite her first.

Beastboy and Cyborg are a package, and they seem to be more friendly. They'll be an easy catch.

But how to approach them?

He certainly couldn't just walk up and invite them like some creeper. He needed to be discreet – suave, irresistible. Richard paused, putting a momentary halt to his thinking process. This has become a habit for the past few days. He usually did it when he had the feeling that he was acting like a sexual predator.

He needed to know more about them.

And so, he set to work that night in front of his computer. He stared at his monitor, thinking for a moment. Who shall he search first. Among the four of his stalking subjects, who would be more recognizable to people? Obviously, it would have been either Cyborg or Starfire. But he did not know anything too specific about Starfire to narrow down his search, so he went for Cyborg. He opened his browser and searched for anything related to the Lockhearth University football team. Sure enough, there he was. Victor Stone, quarterback. It surprised Dick how he hadn't heard about him. The guy was practically a star, leading his team to victory here and there.

More surprisingly, Dick discovered that his father was Dr. Silas Stone, one of the country's premiere robotics expert. It might explain Victor's interest in robotics. They did not seem to have many articles or pictures together, so he moved on.

Dick spent minutes pouring over other articles about Victor before finally checking out his social networks. Facebook and Twitter, nothing else. His wall was like every other athletic college student's wall, filled with posts about sports news and events. But his Twitter was another thing. He tweeted just about the same things in his Facebook wall, but he followed accounts related to robotics, technology and food. Dick raised a curious brow. A secret hobby perhaps?

After scrolling down a couple more times, Dick saw that Victor had followed one of the university cafes a few days ago. He smiled; this looked promising. He clicked on the account. Obviously, it was filled with food related tweets, with captions inviting students to come over and have a cup of coffee. After thoroughly going through the account, Dick observed that a certain Logan1965 had been liking every tweet. Dick clicked on the account and gave out a snorting laugh. It was beastboy.

It seemed that beastboy – who Dick now knew to be Garfield Logan – was quite the activist, participating in many environmentalist events within and outside of the campus. Dick opened up a new tab and searched for any other social networks he may have. Sure enough, Garfield Logan had Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram and even Vine accounts.

Garfield, who looked too angelic for his own good in his profile pictures, proved to be funny and radical in his facebook posts, which were mostly witty commentaries or jokes about the environment, pop culture and Jennifer Lawrence. His Instagram account was abundant with pictures of him hiking or camping with people whom Dick presumed to be his parents, and also the occasional animal picture (Garfield had a selfie with one of the cutest corgis Dick had ever laid eyes on; he stared at that picture for a full minute). His vines were a hilarious take on voyeurism; it mostly consisted of clips of random strangers, with him narrating an elaborate and humorous story along with it. He noticed the constant presence of a petite blonde girl with him in his videos; probably a close friend. And finally, his Tumblr was a smorgasbord of things related to Harry Potter, more animals, and memes.

Dick went through Garfield's facebook account one more time, pouring through his newsfeed. He came across a university event Garfield shared a month ago – a Save the Hawksbill Turtle bake sale by the Young Environmentalist club, together with the Young Entrepreneurs club. Dick paused, his eyes glinting as he remembered something. Starfire was going through the business section in the library when he first saw her; it might be one of her majors.

Thinking it was a long shot, but deciding to go through with it anyway, he googled for the university's Young Entrepreneurs club. When he finally found a section about them in the university website, he smiled, clearly pleased with himself. Starfire was the secretary of the club.

He went through the section, scanning for the roster, and finally found out that Starfire was Kori Anderson, cheerleader, Marketing and Art History major, and sister to Camille Anderson – a famous lawyer and partner in one of the city's most prestigious law firms. He opened Kori's facebook and Instagram accounts, his natural male attraction to the clearly beautiful woman piquing his interest. He was disappointed at what he saw.

Eveything seemed contrived somehow, as if every post and picture had been planned. Of the countless polite posts and club photos, he learned nothing new about Kori. It was as if she were trying to portray a perfect image for herself, and it did not take long before her account bored Dick. He looked at one last photo with unease; she'd seemed so full of life in person.

Sighing, he opened a new tab and paused. How to look for Raven? She clearly wasn't in any of the other four's social circles. He thought for a good minute before it finally struck him. She was in the university orchestra. he went back to the university website and found out that their orchestra had their own Youtube channel. Dick clicked on the link and grinned wide. There were at least a dozen playlist and a hundred videos, there was no chance of not finding Raven here. Resisting the urge to click on the first video on the channel, he scrolled down, hoping to find something more promising. His effort was rewarded. There was a playlist dedicated to Cello soloists and when he opened it, videos of Raven comprised more than half of the playlist.

Dick spent the next hour looking through one video after another, entranced by each performance. As stoic and emotionless as she was in real life, she looked absolutely passionate when she performed. He thought she was pretty good, and looking through the comments, he found out that he wasn't the only one who thought so. Dick smiled to himself, remembering one of Alfred's many impassioned speeches about art and music: "the greatest, young master Richard, are those who have lived a full life – those who have been through life at its worst and at its best, but whose works were nonplussed, but instead, nurtured by such adversaries."

A full life. Dick looked intently at the video of Raven, whom he now knew as the prodigious Rachel Roth. He opened a new tab and googled her. After scrolling down the results, he found out that she did not have a single social network account. Everything related to her were about her performances in the orchestra. How could one with such a full life be invisible, Dick thought to himself.

He leaned back against his chair, his eyes admiring the numerous tabs in his browser. He might not have discovered much about his stalking subjects, but knowing their identities was good enough. He tucked his hand behind his head, feeling pleased with himself. His jubilation was shot lived, however, when he remembered: he still did not know how to approach them without looking like a complete stalker – which he truthfully was. He let out a defeated sigh and slumped down.

"Is it anything I can be of help with, young master Richard?"

Dick turned towards his door where Alfred stood with a tray of biscuits and milk. "You did not come down for dinner, and it's far too late into the night for you to have any. So I thought a light snack would get you through the night," Alfred said, walking towards Dick's desk and setting the tray gracefully on top of it.

"Thanks, Alfred. I'm just…doing some research," Dick smiled, hoping to keep Alfred's eyes from the monitor. But the butler was keener than anyone gave him credit for.

"With the kind of research you're doing, young master, I'd expect it would be safe to inform Master Bruce to get in touch with the family lawyer."

"What? Why would you-"

Alfred's eyes narrowed, making Dick gulp.

"Ok, so I'm at it again, but I'm being careful!" Dick emphasized with a huge grin, hoping to appear angelic.

"Richard, it is improper to stalk people within or without the internet. I thought you would have learned from last time's incident."

"I did. But if I remember clearly, I helped Bruce out of some big trouble because of my stalking. This is purely harmless and completely beneficial."

Alfred sighed. "Alas, a manipulative tongue was one trait I had hoped you wouldn't pick up from master Bruce." The butler sat down on the edge of Dick's bed and looked at him with firm but gentle eyes. "What is it this time?"

Dick smiled, clearly relieved that he was not getting reprimanded. "There are four people in my class that intrigue me."

"How so?" Alfred inquired, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

"I don't even know, Al. There's just something different about them. Four people couldn't be more different than each other than these guys are."

"And you want to get acquainted with them?"

Dick looked sheepish and scratched the back of his head. "I guess. I've only talked with one of them and it did not go well."

"The conversation did not last long?"

"That, and she ended up hating me afterwards."

Alfred raised a disapproving eyebrow, implying that it might have been something that Dick did. "And the others?"

"That's just it. I don't know how to approach the others. I've been doing some research on them and only the most trivial of things connect them. I can't possibly strike up a conversation with 'hey, so you like bake sales and coffee?'"

Alfred did not reply. He was looking at the monitor, and from his narrowed eyes, Dick could tell that he was thinking deeply. "That is the Lockheart university orchestra," Alfred murmured.

Dick turned towards his monitor. "Yeah. Rachel Roth's their principal cellist. She's quite good."

"Yes, I've heard her quite a few times. She quite a talented young woman," Alfred mused, nodding his head slightly.

Dick's head snapped back towards the butler, confused. "What do you mean you've heard her? You've actually seen her perform?"

Alfred was taken aback. "Yes. On some weekends, I fancy going to the city's orchestra hall and listen to whoever's performing. Miss Roth here has performed a number of times there. Not to mention in some of master Bruce's own galas as well."

Dick could have fallen from his chair in shock. "Bruce's gala?" he whispered. Without another word to Alfred, he got up and dashed beside his bed, grabbing his bag. After rummaging through it, he brought out the crumpled invitation for the gala. He ripped it open ("I worked hard on those invitations, master Richard") and scanned through the long list of attendees - the mayor, several politicians and businessmen, other high society people. Two names caught his eye: Dr. Silas Stone and Atty. Camille Anderson. Unable to stop the grin forming on his face, he scanned further down and let out a shrill laugh. The Lockhearth university orchestra would be performing for the gala.

Dick spun around, meeting Alfred's confused face with his own hysterically excited one. "I've got it, Al."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello Reader!**

 **Soooo, I read through the last chapter, hoping it came out right despite my intoxication. I did not plan for Dick to be THAT creepy, but oh well.**

 **I'm 100% sober when I wrote this, and after finishing, I wished that I wasn;t. Let's just say that establishing the plot for this particular character was emotionally heavy for me.**

 **Also, I've spent the entire week reading Slade X Raven fanfiction. To say I'm addicted would be an understatement. I ended up rewatching Teen Titans and crying out "Now, I see the sexual tension" whenever Slade appears. God, this pairing is so sexy.**

 **I'm a multi-shipper, So I'll be sharing my other Raven pairing experiences with you guys, because I need to know that I'm not the only one who's lost her sanity to fanfiction.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, though idk how you will. sob. pain.**

 **Btw, don;t forget to leave a comment, suggestions, violent reactions OR ANY GOOD RAVEN x ANYONE STORIES. TERHER.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

Kori waited impatiently, hugging her knees close to her chest, ignoring her skirt hiking up her legs. She was alone anyways; there would be no one there to reprimand for sitting like a caveman. Her sister was not late – she was never late – but the time it took for Kori to wait for that dreaded black car to stop in front of her dorm house was excruciating. In her loneliness, time seemed to move slower and a million possibilities raced through her head.

She might do something wrong; she might say something wrong; she might not react the way her sister would have wanted her to; she might not be pretty enough; she might not be good enough. A million possibilities and none of them were good for her.

Kori sighed for the nth time that afternoon. She did not want to go out shopping, not with her sister, and especially not for another event where she'd have to parade around as her sister's prop. Oh, Kori, sweet beautiful Kori, who was too helpless and naïve for her own good. Whatever would she do without Camille?

"Rot in the orphanage," Kori muttered to herself, her eyes becoming distant. Her heart ached at the familiar struggle going on inside her. She had a lot to thank her sister for, and getting her out of that god-forsaken orphanage was one of them. All the other kids she used to live with would pray for someone – a family friend or a distant relative – to come get them someday. Kori, too, had said the same prayer. "Please, God, let my family come tomorrow," was her silent plea every night. When her prayers were finally answered, it was not long before she wished she'd never hoped for someone to find her.

She got out of the orphanage only to be imprisoned somewhere worse. She was locked behind her sister's constant hatred, an insatiable anger that she knew not the reason behind. And every condescending look, every criticizing word, every belittling judgement, took a part of Kori away until there was nothing left inside her anymore. Weren't words just as painful? It was no question that Camille pampered Kori; she had only the best shoes, the best clothes, the best education. But behind the pampering was a price, and Kori had been paying it for years. In fact, she was sure she would be paying it all her life.

Kori Anderson, one of the most beautiful young ladies to ever set foot in Lockhearth, was an empty shell filled with things her sister chose to fill her with, only to be emptied by the end of the day and tossed aside, waiting for another opportunity to be used again.

She uttered a new prayer every night, now. "Please, God, let someone find me," she would whisper into the darkness, doubting if anyone was listening, but still hoping for her own sanity. She did not know who she was praying for. All she knew was, she wanted an escape.

A shrill honking noise woke her from her reverie, and when she peeked out the window, her sister's Rolls Royce was waiting for her outside. Kori ran downstairs, afraid that if she walked, she would not have the strength to get herself out of the door. She pushed at the heavy oak doors of her dormitory and dashed towards the car, panting. The driver was waiting beside the car and opened the passenger door to let her in, bowing as she slipped inside.

"Hello, sister," Kori greeted with a smile.

"Did you have to run like some uneducated hobo, Kori?" Camille answered, not bothering to look up from her phone.

"I was eager," Kori answered, hoping that her excitement was convincing.

"Fix yourself," Camille snapped, looking at Kori only to glare at her.

Kori ran a hand feebly through her hair, keeping a meek smile on her face, knowing well that if she showed any sign of feeling bad, her sister would only reprimand her for it.

The ride to the mall was not unpleasant as Kori had thought it would be. For the most part, she was thankful at whatever client was keeping her sister busy, since Camille had not spoken a single word to her. She was free to look outside the car window, observing the people they passed by. She saw high school girls, giggling happily as they waked home together; a boy and a girl carrying half a dozen boxes of donuts in each arm, laughing despite the weight; A morose girl walking slowly, flicking a cigarette with one hand while lugging what looked to be a cello case. Kori was suddenly overwhelmed with enviousness. She wondered what it would feel like to have someone to childishly giggle with without the fear of being judged; she wondered what it would feel like to gorge out on donuts without having to mind if her Givenchy dress would still fit her; she wondered what it would feel like to play an instrument, to actually be able to do something out of the willingness of her heart and feel good about it. Her enviousness quickly turned into a quiet bitterness, which she hid well, as she always did.

Finally, they reached the mall and went inside the exclusive boutique her sister favored. The walls were lined with every elegant dress the mind could conceive, in every shape and color – from the velvety black much like Holly Golighty's iconic LBD to the lustrous red of Cindy Crawford's famous plunging gown. They were all breathtaking, and Kori was not the least impressed. How many Versaces had she worn? How many Lhuilliers and dela Rentas? Every designer gown she slipped on made her look like a goddess and feel like a slave.

When Camille pointed out a gorgeous lilac tulle gown, Kori held her breath. She prayed to whatever god that would listen that one of the saleswomen could accompany them to the fitting room. But no deity was listening to her at that moment, and Camille led her to the farthest room, the two of them alone.

"Make it fast," Camille said, taking a seat on the small, plush ottoman inside the room. Kori started stripping, making sure to avoid her sister's eyes in the mirror. She took of her bra and slipped on the tulle dress carefully. When the dress was in place, Camille stood up, walked closer to Kori, and slowly tugged the zipper on the back upwards.

"You've gained weight," she pointed out in a cold voice. Her sharp eyes darted towards the mirror, examining Kori's appearance. "Straighten your back; you're not a hunchback." Camille walked to face Kori, taking the latter's chin between her fingers. Kori did not wince when her sister's long, sharp nails dug into her skin. "I'll have to instruct Diovanni to contour you well. You look like a cow with those cheeks." Finally, Camille returned to her place behind Kori and grabbed a handful of her fiery red hair, making sure to tug. "Your hair…"

Kori remained silent despite the fear growing inside her. She allowed herself one vanity and it was her hair. It gave her an odd sense of comfort, and she was afraid that her sister would demand to cut it off.

"Your hair will have to be made up extravagantly to make up for your current disgusting physique. Perhaps a bouffant."

And with that, Camille snatched her purse up and walked out of the fitting room, informing the saleswomen that she would be purchasing the gown. It was only then that Kori let out a shuddering breath. She felt tired.

Her sister dropped her back to her dormitory. Camille did not look up once; even when Kori was waving goodbye right beside her car window. She only went back inside her dormitory when her sister's car had disappeared in the distance. She walked slowly up towards her room, and when she was safe in its confines, she kicked her shoes off and unceremoniously threw the package containing her expensive new dress on her couch. The lid fell off at the impact and the gown spilled out unto the floor, a beautiful lilac mess. The sight of it made Kori wince, disgust and hatred boiling up inside her. Tomorrow night, she would be wearing that, a symbol of her silent oppression. She didn't even like lilac.

III

Kori could not remember much of yesterday. She remembered laying down on her bed, her heart heavy and her eyes closing on the image of her lilac dress. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her room. When she opened her eyes, she was now wearing the accursed lilac dress, her hair extravagantly held up by elegant clips and her ears adorned by gorgeous earrings with deep purple stones.

She stood in the middle of a crowd of well-dressed strangers, lost in every sense of the word. How long has she slept yesterday? When did she wake up? How had she gotten here? Where was her sister?

Her sister.

Ah, yes. She remembered now. Waking up late; getting reprimanded; the haze as she was brought to her sister's house to get herself prepared. Those events were so insignificant to her, she assumed that her brain had taken the initiative to just block it out.

She just stood there for a long time, her hands lightly holding a glass of champagne as she looked at the people around her. She knew no one. A sense of claustrophobia slowly engulfed her at the realization. How could someone surrounded by so many people be so lonely? Her eyes wandered some more before she finally caught sight of her sister. Camille was jovially talking with the mayor when she glanced towards Kori. Upon seeing the dazed teenager, she scowled and gave a quick glare before turning back to the mayor with bright eyes. That split-second threat was enough for Kori. She knew what that glare meant.

 _Fix yourself._

Kori took a deep breath, her bullet points running through her head automatically: Straighten your back; Tuck your hair behind your ears; Smile charmingly. Within seconds, Kori demeanor changed from an out of place teenager to a smiling, sociable young lady.

She nodded at politicians, giggled at jokes that were not even funny, and listened to endless stories of business transactions and whatnots. She remained smiling and giggly even when some attendees looked at her with impolite and clearly lustful looks, when she was told that she was pretty and should think of joining the modelling industry, and even when she was told that her she could do without her double majors with a sister like the famous Camille Anderson.

"I'm not kidding, Karen, "exclaimed a portly businessman who could not remember her name due to the obvious fact that he'd had one too many glasses of champagne. "Why bother with college? You're set for life with the fortune your sister has."

Kori smiled politely, careful to keep her temper in check. "I think it would be nice if I gained accolades for myself too, don't you?"

The businessman blinked at her before laughing loudly. Kori raised a brow.

"What accolades could you gain that would surpass you sister's, hmm?" The businessman asked, wiping tears from his eyes. "Ah, don't be forlorn, young Karen. Such is the fate of most younger children. At least you have your pretty face, huh?"

Kori's smile turned into a thin line. Setting her glass down on the table beside her, she excused herself and walked away as fast as she could in her heels. She dashed into the ladies' room and locked herself in one of the cubicles. Her conversation with the businessman had upset her terribly, and her stomach was uneasy. Bending over a toilet, she vomited, the champagne and hor d'oeuvres she had taken earlier rushing out in a disgusting swirl of red, yellow and green.

Tears ran down her cheeks and she shook with anger and frustration. _Oh Kori. Kori Anderson, the girl with the pretty face. What accolades could you gain that would surpass your sister's? Whatever could you do that would make you into anything more than your sister's pet?_

Kori's body went cold and her stomach turned once more. She convulsed and vomited again, coughing violently. She heard the door to the ladies' room swing open, and footfalls echoed against the bathroom walls. Kori grimaced. She reached for the trip lever and pulled, hoping that the sound of rushing water from the toilet flushing would drown out the sound of her vomiting.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello Reader,**

 **It's been almost five months, and I am so so so so sorry. I am practically stressed out with guilt right now.  
First, I want to apologize for how absent I've been. I had to deal with some family issues, and it was a dark, heavy moment for me. I had to take time to collect myself before I could write anything decent.**

 **Second, I know everything's been one hell of a rollercoaster since I've last posted. What with trump and all. I'm not going to be too political here, but I'm just putting it out there: If thing's are getting too crazy, you can talk to me. Don't even hesitate.**

 **Third, Thank you all for still sticking by me. Hope I haven't lost your trust and interests in my stories.**

 **Now, here's another chapter, and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"I need the money. I need the money. I need the money – "

Garfield muttered this to himself repeatedly, a mantra that got him through the past hour full of snobbish aristocrats and hor d'oeuvres with names too fancy for him to pronounce. Their names were Latin to Gar, who gave up on trying to say their proper culinary names and, instead, called them what they seemed to him.

"Excuse me, young man, but what would this delicacy be?" a woman with the longest string of pearls looped around her neck had asked him.

Gar glanced down at the scribble on his hand – a cheat list he had written in a vain attempt to remember whatever it was he was serving. Creamy Anchoiade with Crudites stood out in clear letters, but he had no idea how to say it. "Um…" His gaze shifted to the tray he held, a colorful setting of spicy black radish shavings, cut broccoli and cauliflower, and a richly textured dip at the center. He shrugged and answered, "Some sort of pureed anchovy with vegetables, ma'am."

The woman had raised an eyebrow before tentatively taking a piece of black radish, dipping it, and walking off – but not before giving him a judging squinty-eyed glare.

Was it his fault he didn't know his French? Probably; he did fail the subject twice. This happened to him a couple more times with different people – all of whom gave him the same squinty glare – before he finally gave up and ducked behind a pillar. He spent a considerable amount of time in the protective shadow of the pillar, slowly munching through the tray of food he was supposed to be serving. His eyes slowly scanned the room, taking in the kaleidoscope of colors and sparkles from expensive gowns, and the throngs of rich elites grouping together to talk about their estates, and, not for the first time that night, he thought, "What the hell am I doing here?" This question was promptly followed by him repeating, "I need the money. I need the money. I need the money – ". But he didn't. Money was good; money came; his job at the café supplied him enough. No, he took this job for Terra. Sweet, manipulative Terra, with her large baby blues and pouty lips. How many times had he fallen for that puppy dog look and that whining voice? How many times had he told himself to be firm when it came to Terra, but succumbed the moment she added syrup on top of her pretty pleases? Much too many times for his liking, but he could never find it in himself to just say no.

So, here he was, wearing a suffocating bowtie and equally suffocating black pants, parading around a tray of food whose names were practically richer than he was, and wishing more than anything that Bruce Wayne would just choke on whatever he was drinking so that he could go home.

His eyes absentmindedly roamed the room, not really taking in its surroundings, until he did a double take and set his eyes back to one part of the room. Across him, leaning against another pillar with half his body also covered in the shadows, was a young man. The guy was around his age, with stylishly unkempt hair, a strangely familiar face, and icy blue eyes that were looking right at him. Garfield gulped and straightened up. He looked away, pretending to look at the guests for a moment, before glancing back at the guy. He was still looking at him. Much to Gar's dismay, the young man gracefully pushed himself away from the pillar and walked towards him, hands in his pockets. In Gar's mind, he looked like one of those movie villains who killed their victims in plain sight but disappeared into the night before the first piercing scream even came.

Maybe he was part of the party committee, keeping an eye out for misbehaving staff – which Gar clearly was, since he just cleared the tray of the food he was supposed to serve. Guilt and fear coursed through him. What if Terra gets sacked because of him? There's no way they'd associate her with him right? He prayed that Terra would stay in the girl's room for just a couple more minutes, just until this guy gives his sentence and walks away.

A few steps away and, much to Gar's surprise, the young man smiles and stops. He takes one hand out of his pocket and awkwardly scratches his temple. "Uh, Hey."

Gar blinked. "Hey…?" He answered back, confused.

"I know this might sound crazy, but you seem…familiar."

Gar blinked some more. Hesitantly, he said, "You too, actually. Have we met somewhere?"

The young man relaxed significantly, his rigid posture changing into something more at ease. "That's what I've been trying to figure out earlier. I'm sorry if I looked like a creeper back there, but it was gnawing at me. I'm…um, I'm a third year at Lockhearth."

At that moment, something clicked inside Gar, as it usually happened when he had something in common with someone he did not know. A rush of excitement coursed through him at the common ground he shared with this stranger, who could be a potential friend. "Really? I go there too! I'm in my second year, Environmental Science." Garfield held out his hand, which the young man accepted eagerly. "Garfield Logan."

"Richard Grayson, Political Science." Richard ran a hand through his hair, smiling widely. Despite himself, Gar was smiling as well. Hell, anyone who didn't talk to him with a snotty voice was a reprieve from this party. "I still can't quite place why you seem familiar, though."

Gar's eyebrows scrunched as he thought hard. "Me neither. I mean, I take a lot of minor subjects this semester, so you could be in any of those."

Richard leaned back. "Well, I don't. Held them off for my last years. I'm only taking up Statistics, a couple minor business subjects, Sociology – '

"Sociology!" Gar said, eye wide. "I'm in Professor Watson's class."

Richard barked out a laugh which caught the attention of some socialites, who looked at them with reprimanding eyes. "No freaking way! Sociology? That's where we see each other?"

Garfield gave a laugh of his own. "I'm sorry, man. I don't really take your faces to heart; I don't know anyone in that class. Well, except for a couple of people."

"Me neither," Richard said. "I know Victor Stone goes there."

"Now, that's someone I know. How do you know Vic?"

Richard raised an eyebrow, although not condescendingly. "Well, he's here right now. His father is one of the guest of honors tonight."

Gar laughed an octave higher, earning him a few more glares. To hell with those rich snobs, his friend was here. A companion in this hellhole. "Don't play with me, man."

Richard chuckled. "I'm not. I was talking with him just moments ago. I'll bring you to him, if you want,' he added upon seeing Gar's incredulous stare.

At this, Gar smiled sheepishly. "I can't. I'm actually supposed to be serving these – well, I was supposed to serve whatever's travelling down my stomach right now."

Richard smirked. "Never mind that. I'll make sure you won't get in trouble. Follow me."

Gar stood there for a second, his mind frantically trying to rationalize who exactly this guy was to be so brazenly confident at keeping him out of trouble. But the thought of another familiar face was enough to override his good senses, and he settled the tray down on a table and followed Richard Grayson through the crowd, which had just begun to converge as Bruce Wayne walked up a flight of stairs for his speech.

"I can't thank you enough, man. You practically just saved me," Gar breathed out as they made their way through a sea of faux furs and tuxedos.

"No worries, Garfield. It was my pleasure," Richard answered with a smile and a glint in his icy, blue eyes.

* * *

 **Is it just me or did I just write Dick as if he was picking up someone?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello Reader,**

 **This particular one was fun to write. The structure might be a bit confusing, but all you have to keep in mind is that the sections are intervals of the present (dick with gar, vic and karen) and the past (anything that happened before dick met gar. god that sounds like a romcom).**

 **Also, a lot of you have been asking me about the pairing, and I'm very hesitant to tell you guys directly. However, I'm getting paranoid that you guys might be expecting a particular pair and might get disappointed to find another, sooooooo...Maybe you guys could tell me (in the reviews) what pair you guys were expecting? I'm not changing the pairing I already have planned out, because the story is pretty much set from beginning to end, but it might help me to just break it to you guys.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Richard Grayson did not feel a smidge of guilt as he led an eager Garfield through the crowd and towards the destination that was Victor Stone. He knew he was being manipulative and acting like a sociopath, but something kept on pulling and pushing inside him, constantly injecting adrenaline and the desire to see this through into his veins. Maybe it was the chance of starting new with other people; maybe it was the opportunity to actually make friends as Richard Grayson the human, not Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne's heir; maybe it was a chance to be with people who did not know him and would not judge him at first glance. Whatever the reason was, Richard was determined to go past that line of no return, consequences be damned.

Everything was coming together slowly, bit by bit. He just had to be careful on how he moved his chess pieces.

III

Dick leaned against the door, hand in his pockets. Bruce sat at his desk, reading today's newspaper and seemingly oblivious to the boy's presence. Dick fidgeted a bit, his hand restlessly sliding in and out of his pocket. He did not ask favors from Bruce very often; in fact, he avoided it as much as he could. It was one of many things he did to set himself apart from his mentor, an attempt to step out of his shadow.

"You're always welcome to talk to me, Dick. After all these years, I thought you'd already understand that"

Dick straightened up, surprised. Okay, so Bruce wasn't that oblivious. "I do. It just takes some time to get used to it."

Bruce placed his paper down and looked at Dick, his gaze serious and unwavering. "I don't say no to you, unless it is beyond my capability to give or it's something detrimental to you."

Dick did not say anything, instead, looked away to think. His relationship with Bruce was not conventional; at most times, it was tricky, constantly shifting between a quiet battle to be different from each other, brotherly companionship, and in very rare times such as this, fatherhood. Bruce was young, and was much younger when he adopted Dick. The latter supposed that, due to their youth, the natural bond that formed between them was more brotherly than fatherly. But Bruce had his moments – moments that showed Dick just how deeply Bruce did care for him. It made asking all the more difficult.

"It's trivial, really," Dick started. "I was wondering if you could open up a few more spots for staff at the gala."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"Students from Lockhearth. Lots of them take part-time jobs, most of them at university cafes. I just, well, I have a classmate who works at one of the cafes, and I think he'd really be thankful for a sideline. He won't accept it coming straight from me, though."

"You want me to extend an invitation to serve as staff to your school?" Bruce asked, clearly suspicious.

"To specific cafes at our school. It'll be a great help for them and for you. I saw the guest list. Your current staff won't be able to handle it."

"And you recommend students instead of trained workers I could easily add to the staff?"

Dick shrugged. "Nothing beats young blood. Come on, Bruce. For my friend."

"I thought it was a classmate."

"Can't classmates be friends?"

Bruce remained quiet. He studied Dick for a moment, his dark, blue eyes scrutinizing every bit of him. Dick was up to something; Bruce knew him well enough to be sure of that. The young boy's mind was conniving and it was enough cause for concern. "Do you have any establishments to recommend?"

Dick instantly pulled out a folded paper out of his pocket and handed this to Bruce, who smiled and did not hesitate to comment, "Looks like you've had this ready even before you came here."

Dick also smiled in return. "I knew it was in your capability to give."

III

With Richard around, the reprimanding looks were becoming less and less, even when Gar cried out upon spotting Victor's tall frame. Nobody wanted to spite Bruce Wayne by chastising his son's choice of company. And so, much to their chagrin, the aristocrats left the loud, bumbling young adults to their own circle.

Victor was beyond happy at seeing Gar with Richard, his wide eyes darting back and forth between them. Richard noted the drastic change on him – Victor went from acting socially polite to being sincerely rambunctious. It suddenly struck him how uncomfortable Victor was at meeting him earlier, before knowing he and Karen actually knew each other. Victor had been noticeably distant, barely talking unless spoken too, as if he was scared of saying something wrong. That was until Karen arrived and gave Richard a warm hug. Victor eased up a bit after seeing that Karen and Richard were well acquainted.

III

Karen Beecher, Associate Editor for the Lockhearth Media Corps, was one of the very few genuine friends that Richard had. As the first and only third year to be elected student body president, Richard was met with much ire and criticism from people, most of whom claimed that his victory was influenced by Bruce Wayne's fame. It was Karen's in depth articles on the various student body events and organizations that led the majority to change their minds. Richard was grateful, but suspicious at first. Did the media corps need anything from him?

"No," Karen had answered firmly back then. They had met at the publication's office in private and Richard had blatantly asked her what she wanted in return for the good press. "I don't need anything from you. I was the youngest writer to be given an editorial position in this publication. I know what it feels like to have your credibility questioned. Just consider it a helping hand; I know Bruce Wayne has nothing to do with whatever you're doing here."

They became fast friends after that.

III

Of course, before tonight, Dick had no idea that Karen was romantically involved with Victor. Neither of them had pictures of each other in social media, so he assumed they kept their private lives private. Her affiliation with Victor only fueled Dick more; surely this was a sign from the gods. What are the chances of one of your friends being the significant other of one of your stalking subjects? For the love of stale crackers, there were 7.4 billion people in the world, yet he and these four different strangers were converging in one place. Not that he didn't have anything to do with it, but still. It was nice to know that the universe was in favor of him.

Garfield and Karen were formally introduced, the former giving Victor a sly look and a nudge on the arm. "Vic, my man, I didn't know you had a lady." Gar then turned to Karen, grabbing her hand, and said, "Ma'am, you tell me if he's done anything wrong. I'll be sure to give him a beating of a lifetime."

"Thanks, Gar," Karen replied sweetly, "But I doubt whatever beating you'll give him will be worse than what I'll do to him if he even thinks about doing me wrong."

Dick and Gar guffawed at that, leaving Vic an embarrassed, mumbling mess.

The four of them talked about a number of different, amusing things, before Victor voiced out in amazement the odds of them knowing each other and meeting here.

"I know, dude, it's freaky,' Gar exclaimed before lifting a hand and counting down with his fingers, "I'm friends with Vic; Vic and Karen are a couple; Dick – I can call you Dick too, right? Right – Dick is friends with Karen; and Dick and I are friends too. Wait, are we friends? We might as well be, man, you practically saved me from getting bored to death."

"And we all go to the same Sociology class. It's like…serendipity."

Karen groaned. "Stop saying that. You watch Serendipity once, and it's all you can talk about."

"I agree, this is some freaky shit. But I'm glad we got to meet. I know no one in that class aside from you guys," Dick piped in, doing his best not to sound rehearsed.

"Amen to that. That essay we're gonna have to do is stressing me out right now," Vic muttered bitterly.

An almost reverent silence fell upon them. Dick was sure they were thinking the same thing, but no one would say it. It wasn't that long ago when they found out they knew each other; the awkwardness of new company was still there.

"Maybe, we could be a group?" Gar suggested, slowly and sheepishly. "I mean, if you guys don't have a group yet."

"That would make sense," Dick said, using every willpower he could muster not to break out into a huge smile. "We only know each other there."

"Professor Watson requires a group of five, though," Vic pointed out.

This time, Dick did smile. "I know someone who can join in."

III

The night was still young, only half of the attendees had arrived. Bruce was just doing his early rounds of mingling when Dick caught his eye. He motioned for the young man to come, and Dick obeyed.

"I want to introduce my son, Richard," Bruce said, proudly clasping Dick's shoulder.

Dick usually hated these formal introductions. He really didn't care about meeting Bruce's rich associates, and it was pretty clear that neither did Mr. Whatshisname. But Dick was willing to make an exception, especially when he was about to be introduced to the famous Camilla Anders, who had brought along her sister.

"A pleasure to meet you," Richard said, extending a hand to the renowned lawyer. Camilla smiled graciously and shook his hand.

"Pleasure's all mine," Camilla answered before turning to her sister. "This is my sister, Kori. I believe you two go to the same university."

"I am familiar with Kori. Her organization has done a number of successful events in Lockhearth," Dick said. Camilla gave a rather stiff smile to Kori, who blinked a couple of times before giving a shy smile.

"Thank you for the compliment. I really cannot take all the credit," Kori said.

"Well, you will be able to when you become president of your organization, so no need to worry about that," Camilla laughed, a cold trill that sounded more dangerous than encouraging. "I'm sure you and Richard here have lots of ideas to share; this would be a good opportunity to talk." Camilla gave Kori an almost threatening look, which was not lost to Bruce and Dick.

Sensing tension, Dick offered his arm to Kori and invited her to a glass of champagne. Camille pursed her lips approvingly.

When they were finally out of earshot, Dick let out a deep breath, which surprised Kori. "I thought we were never getting out of there."

Kori looked at him quizzically. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. I honestly can't stand it when Bruce drags me to meet his business partners or whoever he needs to introduce. It's tedious, you know?"

Kori seemed nervous; she was obviously hesitant to answer. Remembering how Camilla had acted earlier, Dick could understand why she would be scared. "But hey, that's just me. For all I know, you're the greetings expert."

This made Kori laugh. "Hardly. I have to wait for cues from my sister." Kori's eyes widened, and a hand shot right up to cover her mouth. "I mean…not that she…"

"It's just the two of us," Dick said softly. "I'm not going to tell on you, if that's what you're scared of. God knows I could write a book about all the things Bruce does that makes me want to bang my head against a wall. Trust me, I know what it's like."

Kori looked at him, her emerald eyes studying him, deciding on whether to take him for his word, or to clam up and put on the façade Camille had told her to wear time and time again. She doubted he knew what it felt like to be in her place, but then again…he was Bruce Wayne's son. If anyone knew what it felt like to live in the shadow of another, it would be him. Deciding to take a chance, Kori smiled. "How did you know I was part of an organization?"

Dick grinned. "Well, it's my job to know. As Student Body President, not knowing who runs the orgs wouldn't reflect well on me."

Kori gasped. "No way. You're _that_ Richard?"

"Do I look more dashing in person than in the posters?"

Kori gave an uncharacteristic snort. "I actually did not vote for you."

"I am aghast," Dick said, dramatically clutching at his chest. "Do I look that incompetent?"

"I may have been biased. You went against my sorority sister."

"Alas, the bonds of sisterhood," Dick sighed with a snap of his fingers.

"Sisters before misters, Richard. Sorry," Kori replied, batting her eyelashes playfully.

They both laughed, a warm, sincere laugh that told they were actually enjoying each other's company. Dick was just about to bring up Professor Watson's class when a gloved hand gently clasped his shoulder. He knew who it was before he even turned; Kori's rigid posture gave it away.

"I apologize for interrupting," Camille said with a silky voice. "But, I'm afraid I'll have to steal Kori away. I would dearly love to introduce her to the mayor."

Dick nodded. "It was very nice meeting you, Kori."

"You too," was all that Kori said before going with her sister. A few feet away, she glanced back quickly and gave him a smile.

III

"Well, that's four," Vic said with a hopeful sigh. "Only one more to go. Maybe we can pick up someone in class."

At that moment, a tall, slender man with a pencil thin mustache stepped up the small podium of the ballroom. In a rich British accent, he announced the presence of the Lockhearth university orchestra and wished the attendees well as they listen to a "haunting and riveting performance for the soul."

A number of young men and women came up the podium; they were obviously not the whole orchestra, but a selected few chosen to perform. As they took up their places, readied their instruments, and waited for their conductor to come up with them, Garfield craned his neck to get a better view. He gave an audible, exaggerated gasp which made Vic and Karen jump.

"What's wrong with you?" Vic asked.

"I think I found our fifth member," Gar said with a grin. Beside him, Dick was grinning as well. He knew they were both looking at the young woman carefully positioning her Cello in front of her.

* * *

 **I thought about making this section for you guys, for me to answer to your reviews and comments. I never did that before, but you guys seem fun and this might be the STAAAAAART OF SOMETHING NEWWWWWWW.**

 **you totes sang that ala high school musical.**

 **anyways,**

 **Princess Layla, thanks so much. We can be emotionally retarded together. May the llama gods shine on you.**

 **and to all you other guys who have been reading, may the llama gods bless you too!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello Reader,**

 **So this is the last chapter with a one character point of view. I'm planning to just write longer chapters with multiple character pov's so that we don't end up with a hundred chapter story. That's tricky. And too much to read. And i'm afraid that I won't be able to commit to that many chapters. so many fears *shudder***

 **And about the pairings, i think I'll just wait for one more chapter before I decide to reveal. because I'm cruel that way. And i don't know how to say it. so much uncertainty. *shudder***

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Atlantis was a girl. A beautiful, forgotten girl who had walked too far and reached nowhere. She was alone and lost, and Rachel knew - for some reason she could not explain but believed with such certainty - that the more Atlantis walked away, the more she forgot a part of herself. And so, Atlantis was scattered, various parts of her soul left behind in a winding trail no hunter could read and no traveler could follow.

Atlantis was lost.

III

Rachel walked through the cobblestone path leading to her class. The grass around her glistened with puddles, disturbed by the constant pitter-patter of rain. Last night was a blur of lights and sounds; time seemed to go by fast, slowing down only when she started the first few notes on her Cello, and then speeding back up once the performance was over.

Rorek had gone to her afterwards, planting a chaste kiss on her temple and whispered praises in her ear. "Good Girls get their just rewards," he said before going up the podium to a deafening round of applause.

Rachel had not received any rewards, but if Rorek's call to come visit him after class was a sign, then she would be receiving it soon. A strange numbness gripped her then, making it harder for her to breath. All of a sudden, she wanted to bolt – away from the university, from her father, from Rorek. These episodes came to her almost every day; a burst of claustrophobia that threatened to drown her. The only thing that kept the waves at bay was her stubborn need to prove herself. If she had to go, she'd make sure they remembered her.

Rachel gave a sigh of relief when she finally reached the building, sheltering her from the rain. She wrung her hair as she walked towards her classroom. She was already late; there was no need to rush. Upon entering the room, Professor Watson gave her an exasperated look that was a cross between a glare and something that said "Why do I even bother?"

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Roth. Now if you please, take a seat. I was just about to assign topics for your group essays."

Rachel sat down, ignoring a giddy waving Garfield, and was about to hook her earphones up when Professor Watson announced, "Since all of you had grouped yourselves already, I will proceed to the essay topics, which I've taken from the library's archives of past theses. Don't even think of plagiarizing; it won't take much effort to look up those theses for comparison."

Rachel cocked her head to the side. Did he say "all of you"? Because she clearly remembered not associating with anyone in this classroom. Unless…

A sense of foreboding came to her, intensified by the pressure of someone poking her from behind.

"For the first group, your topic will be 'Ideologies in Student Policy'", Professor Watson started. "Second group, your topic will be 'Portrayal of gender in Contemporary Media' - "

The poking became insistent, but Rachel did her best to ignore it. Looking around her, everyone already seemed to know which group they belonged. How much had she missed for coming in 20 minutes late?

Professor Watson continued assigning topics until, "And for the last group…" He gave a long, scrutinizing look at Rachel before continuing, "Stereotyping of sub-societies within the university."

It seemed like she belonged to the last group. She did not need to guess the asshat that took the initiative to let her join in.

With one last stubborn poke, Rachel finally looked back. Garfield smiled at her widely, blue eyes shining a little too bright for her liking. "Hey there, groupmate." He sang.

III

After assigning their respective topics, Professor Watson had allowed the class to converge into their groups to discuss their plans for the essay. "Not that I have anything good to teach you brats today," he muttered under his breath, pulling out a copy of Time magazine form his briefcase and leaning back against his chair.

They picked a spot at one corner of the classroom, opting to sit on the floor instead of dragging their chairs along with them. Vic and Garfield bumped fists as Richard approached, a smiling redheaded girl and a sullen Rachel following behind him.

"Nice to see you guys again," Dick said, who smiled when Vic gave him a wink. "This is Kori." He gave the redheaded girl an encouraging nudge, and she nodded her head as acknowledgement.

"Heeyyyy," Gar drawled, his eyes squinting as he tried to remember something. "You're the chick who didn't rat us out the other day!" Vic jerked slightly before adding, "The paper chick?"

"Paper chick?" Dick asked.

Kori looked just as confused until realization dawned on her and she clapped her hands together. "Oh, of course. You two were passing notes last time. They accidentally threw it my way," she explained.

"'They' have a name." Gar ran a hand through his hair and sidled up beside Kori, batting his eyes at her. "Logan. Garfield Logan. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Leave room for the holy spirit, boy," Vic said, waving Gar away. "Victor Stone. Just call me Vic."

"It's so nice to meet you –"

"And this is my friend Rachel," Gar interrupted, snaking an arm around Rachel, who had decided to lean against a wall away from them during the introductions. The sudden shift of attention caught her off-guard, and whatever insulting comeback she had prepared for Garfield dissolved at the tip of her tongue. She ended up slack-jawed in front of the others.

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel," Kori said, offering her hand.

Rachel looked at her before gingerly shaking it. Gar stepped back as Vic introduced himself. When Dick finally came forward, Rachel held up her hand. "I already know you," she barked in a cold voice. From the corner of her eye, she could see Gar raising an eyebrow at Vic, who shrugged, but neither of them said anything.

"Shall we sit?' Kori asked, also sensing the tension. Much to her dismay, Gar planted himself beside her, with Kori at her other side. Across from her were Vic and Richard, who look nonplussed despite her sudden antagonistic attitude towards him.

"So, 'Stereotyping of sub-societies within the university'. Where do start?" Gar asked, leaning forward.

Vic pressed his lips together in thought, before saying, "Well, we could try the library –"

"Nope. Ixnay on the ibrary lay," Gar cried out, crossing his arms to form an X.

"What now?" Vic groaned, to which Gar rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but this is Sociology. I was expecting something a little more fun."

"This is Sociology. Why were you expecting anything fun?" Rachel muttered before she could stop herself. The others looked at her before bursting out into fits of restrained laughter, except for Gar, who glared at her with wide eyes as if she'd just betrayed him. Rachel just gave him a smirk, letting him know what he got himself into for signing her up for this in the first place.

Gar scoffed before turning away. "Fine. At least something social, please. It _is_ called Sociology. They have the same first four letters – being social is practically a requirement."

"Well, perhaps a survey? Or interviews?" Kori suggested.

"Now we're talking," Gar exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. "Interviews. I like interviews."

"But we can't base our essay on interviews alone," Dick said, "We need to have existing works to back us up at least. So whether you like it or not, the library is a must."

Garfield groaned, slumping against Rachel who immediately pushed him away, thus ending against Victor instead. "Fine, but I demand shifts!"

Dick scoffed. "Of course. We're not tyrants here."

"Thank you. I can't stand being in that library – "

"You get first shift."

III

Rachel was pleasantly surprised, something that happened in her life as rarely as a solar eclipse. Her group mates were actually… human beings. Well, Gar annoyed her to no end, Vic was intimidating, Kori was perfect and thus, also intimidating, and Dick just grinded her gears. But nonetheless, they didn't give her looks; they didn't scowl when she made sarcastic remarks; and they didn't seem to mind her being aloof. People usually didn't give her the luxury of introversion without judgment.

Rachel didn't necessarily like them, but it was good to know that they could act civil towards each other. It would make this whole essay project a lot more bearable.

She made her way through the corridors, not bothering to look up from her feet. She's walked this path countless of times, she could tread through it walking backwards and blindfolded and still arrive at the music hall safely.

The music hall was like a different universe to her; a place detached from the university and form earth, in general. Its domed ceiling seemed to stretch beyond a point her eyes could not see, the walls were thicker and the floors were ancient and worn out. It was a structure filled with history and secrets, and Rachel added to it with stories of her own.

Rorek sat behind the organ, his usual spot, but instead of the sheet music he normally had with him, he held that day's newspaper. "The Lockhearth University Orchestra's string section proved once more the veracity of their talent with a laudable performance at last night's Gala hosted by Bruce Wayne," he read aloud when Rachel was just a few feet away from him. "Sonata after moving Sonata, the young musicians regaled the audiences with a powerful and soulful recital, made all the more glorious by the effervescent contributions of violinist Heath Mccoy and Cellist, Rachel Roth." He placed the newspaper down with a huge grin and faced a stoic Rachel. "That was a section from Linda Berger's critique of last night's concert."

Rachel gave a thin-lipped smile. "Nice to know she liked it."

Rorek leaned back and studied her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

Without a word, Rorek stood up, taking in a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh. He walked around to the other side of the organ, where Rachel stood, and planted himself in front of her. He was close enough for her to smell his aftershave, and the slight scent of cologne he dabbed at his collar. Rachel looked at him, drinking in his features – physical attributes that she could see, smell and taste clearly in her mind even without him there. His grey eyes bore into her amethyst ones; his lips, although not frowning, was set in a curious line; the slender curve of his jaw led to an elegant neck and down to his collarbone, which peaked out of his crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His white, alabaster skin stood out against her own sickly, pale complexion as his hand gravitated towards her, holding it with a dead man's grip.

And like a furious ocean, the claustrophobia came. It hit her with such strength and suddenness that Rachel's knees buckled. Rorek's other hand slipped behind her, bracing her back, and he leaned forward towards her, his body strangely in sync with hers, although she had not control of her own at the moment. Rachel breathed in and out, a series of small gasps that Rorek must have mistook for lust. He pushed her against the organ, laying her down roughly. The keys let out a set of incomprehensible, horrifying notes.

Rachel felt the desperate need to run, but her legs would not take her anywhere. In fact, it seemed like they had a mind of their own, snaking around Rorek's waist. His lips captured hers, and her claustrophobia quickly left, leaving her a numb shell of herself. The touches became more frantic; the caresses turning into desperate grips. Their gasps mingled with the symphony of random notes playing from the organ as Rorek pressed Rachel down further. As his lips travelled down to her neck and his fingers began lifting up the corners of her shirt, Rachel glanced up and stared at the dark vastness that was the domed ceiling, stretching beyond a point her eyes could not see.

* * *

 **author's tete-a-tete**

 **Anime-Manga-Music-Lover:** Oh, I'm a shameless multi-shipper. If i could only make a harem for them, i would in a heartbeat, but idk if anyone's up for that. welp. Also, GOD I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. i stop in the middle of writing sometimes and think "goddamit who can stand Camille? I can't," and then i start thinking, how the hell did Camille end up this mean? i've never met someone this mean. Is this a reflection of me? Am i some dementor sucking on the happiness of other people? so much questions.

 **Princess Leyla:** well, the gang met up after 12 freaking long chapters. IDk what that says for whatever pairing is in this story. hnnngggg.

 **HunterMoore:** You are not alone. I had to read form the very beginning just to check who does what, what university they went to, blah blah. It's like having a dozen children and not remembering what you named them.

 **Sami97:** Gaw thank you. Have you checked out Xaphrin, DT Mars and Lothlorienx? they make amazing RobRae stories. Xaphrin makes magnificent stories and she seems like a multi shipper. i recommend checking out her tumblr and Ao3 account. it's a national treasure.

 **Ravenmelonlord:** god, melonlord reminds me of Toph. I'm glad you like this story. Sometimes, even I don't know what's gonna happen next...and i don't think that's a good thing considering tha=e fact that i'm supposed to be writing this hnnnnnnnnnng


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello Reader,**

 **Well, here we go.**

 **This is, ultimately, a RobRae story. I'm sorry, I know this might be a turn off for some off you, but I do hope you stick around till the story's completion. This story is not centered around their romantic relationship, per say, but rather on their whole dynamic as a group. The romantic relationships here are just a few pieces to the bigger puzzle.**

 **If you were hopping for a different pairing, please don't feel too bad. I'm a multishipper whore; i'll make it up to you with the other stories I have drafted in my laptop. I just need to secure my this story; set a pace where I can constantly update and not leave you guys hanging.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

 **Garfield**

"No! Not the library!"

Garfield ignored Terra's pitiful protests, dragging her by the arm towards the building that loomed over them. "Come on. I went to that shitty gala for you, you're going into this shitty library with me." A few students who had heard him as they passed gave them reprimanding looks. Gar just scoffed and hollered, "No one asked for your thoughts on this."

"Gee, that's great, Gar. Harassing you friend _and_ harassing strangers. Can't you do this alone?" Terra whined. She let her body go limp and dramatically fall to the ground, a prostate image on the steps leading to the library.

Gar groaned, still pulling at one of her arms. "Seriously? This may have worked back in high school but it's not gonna work now, Ter. College is more judgmental. Now get your lazy ass up from there."

Terra jumped to her feet, brushing strands of stray hair from her face. "Excuse me, I am not lazy. I am a working woman. If you want someone to go with you, drag Vic here. He's your group mate, for Pete's sake."

"Vic won't come with me. None of them will! They said I had to go alone for neglecting my shift."

It had been three days since they'd assigned him the first shift. Thinking they'd choose another person to go if he delayed his trip, Gar deliberately avoided the library. Unfortunately, his group mates were not that merciful.

"Today was supposed to be Kori's shift," Dick said, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Well, then, maybe she could go," Gar replied, a little too hopeful.

"And miss the chance for you to contribute? Nah. She can take up shift next week."

"Well, can Vic come with me?"

"Don't want to," Vic said, turning his back and walking away.

"What happened to the bonds of brotherhood?" Gar cried out at him.

Gar had pestered Kori and Raven - who just tuned him out by putting on her earphones - both of whom did not want to go with him. Desperate, he had tricked Terra, asking if she'd like to accompany him to one of the Gelato places nearby. And now, here he was, sitting on the steps outside the library, forlorn and very willing to sell his soul to anyone who could get him out of this predicament.

Terra placed a hand on his shoulder and gripped him encouragingly. "Come one, Gar. You just gotta through a couple of books."

"So, you'll come in with me?"

"Hell no. I have a life."

III

The library was worse than Garfield had expected. He'd never gotten as far as the second floor before, where the desks were plenty and the shelves were scarce and far apart. But the resources he needed were up in the third floor, a forest of endless shelves and cabinets housing dust covered books and the souls of the damned. He had passed a couple of students sitting cross-legged in between the shelves, engrossed in books thicker than a thesaurus. Who would willingly spend their free time here?

Gar paused in front of a shelf near the window; the faint ray of light shining through the vine covered window casted a peaceful glow on that particular part of the room and Gar thought it looked promising. Now, Stereotyping of sub-societies within the university – what books do you read for that? It took a full minute before he decided that he had no idea. He opted to just wing it and got a few books with the words "society' and "university" in them, checking them out without bothering to skim through the pages. Descending to the second floor, Gar felt content. Mission Accomplished.

III

"You got the wrong books."

Garfield spat out his drink and glared at Vic in indignation. They had just finished their shift at the café and were sitting at a corner table, wanting to hang around a bit before closing up shop. Terra went ahead, saying she had to get a tub of ice cream on the way to her dorm because she'd been "deprived"; she made sure to give Gar a glare while saying this.

Across him, Vic picked up a napkin and wiped spittle from his arm. "You got the wrong books," he repeated. He picked one up and read aloud, "Society Princesses: The life and times of Beverly Hills' Young Socialites. And this other one says The University Games: Steps to surviving the academic jungle." Vic then gave Gar a look that practically dared him to make up an excuse.

Gar didn't. Instead, he frantically reached for the two other books he'd borrowed, hoping that one of them would at least check out. Society in Films: Dissecting Fictional Civilizations and the Lockhearth University Student Handbook. "The fucking handbook?" gar cried, slamming the books down. "Don't they sort the books in the library? How does the student handbook end up on the same shelf with Society Princesses?"

"You only went through one shelf?" Vic asked, wide eyed.

"Don't change the subject, Vic. The library clearly has organizational issues."

"You're an issue."

Garfield whined and slumped against the table. "I know. How did this happen?"

Vic looked at him sympathetically. "I don't know, man. Society Princess has a hot pink cover; that should have tipped you off."

"You were supposed to be there with me, Vic," Gar said, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. "You should have been my guidance; my voice of reason! But you betrayed me – "

"I had football practice."

"Excuses!" Gar hissed, dramatically grabbing his cup along with Vic's, who jerked in surprise.

III

Vic was significantly quieter when they closed up shop, and as they walked through the dimly lit campus, Garfield brought it up. "I was just kidding, dude. You don't have to feel bad about not coming with me."

Vic chuckled. "Thanks for the reassurance, but my conscience is clear on that. It's…well, it's about my dad."

Gar blinked, surprised at serious turn of events. "Wanna talk about it?"

Vic sighed, his shoulders hunched over, not with discomfort or embarrassment, but with a deep sense of disappointment. "It's not really something to talk about. At least, it shouldn't be. But in my case, I guess it is. I'm thinking about giving my dad a ticket to our next game."

Garfield barked out a laugh and skipped ahead of Vic to face him and give him a playful punch on the arm. "You've got a game? Dude, that's sick! Of course, you gotta invite your old man. Show him the strength of the bloodline!"

They both laughed before Vic looked away and sighed, "Yeah, well, I'd love to show him. Just gotta get him to one of my games."

"What do you mean?"

"My dad has never gone to any of them."

Gar's spritely steps died to a slow walk and he couldn't hide the confusion, disbelief and pity from his face. "Never – not even once?"

Vic smiled a thin smile and shrugged. "Don't worry about it, man. It's not like I play any less good because he's not there. I guess…I just thought, why bother? He won't come anyway."

They walked a few paces in silence until Gar said, "Well, ticket or no ticket, you can bet I'll be there, dude. I'll even join the cheerleaders down there, so just tell me when."

Vic laughed, a warm boom so different from his somber tone earlier. "You're shitting me."

"Don't underestimate me, Vic. This bod _can_ fit into anything, so expect me there, pompoms and all."

They laughed together. "You're crazy, man. You're okay," Vic said in between laughs, offering a fist to Gar who bumped it without hesitation.

"Please, Vic. Spare me your condescending shit. I am fine as fuck and we both know that."

 **Kori**

Kori decided that she liked her group mates. She didn't just tolerate them, or act polite towards them, but she genuinely liked them. She could actually joke along without having to fear if it would be rude or unladylike; she could talk knowing they won't lambast her for the first word coming out of her mouth; and the best part was, they didn't seem to care when they found out she was _the_ Camille Anders' sister. The only reaction she got when she told them the other day was a question from Garfield: Are all judges like Judge Judy? To which she answered that she had never attended any of her sister's trials in court. Garfield had sighed, saying how awesome it would be if they were all like Judge Judy.

Garfield and Victor were very easy to befriend, much to Kori's delight. She'd encountered the latter at the football field, during cheerleading practice. The football team was passing by when Vic broke off from the group to call her and give her a high five. It made Kori's day.

Richard was the epitome of a gentleman. He'd told her to call him Dick a number of times now, but she just wasn't that comfortable with nicknames yet. He was very attentive of her, which caused her both uneasiness and pleasure.

And Finally, Rachel. She was very…distant. It had already been three classes since they'd been grouped together, and every time they met for discussions, Rachel would barely talk. If she did, it would be to give a snide remark towards Garfield. For some odd reason, Kori felt herself gravitating towards Rachel, and would always make an effort to speak to her, even if the conversation was usually one-sided.

The past week had been very pleasant for Kori. Her sister was away on a business trip, and she was making new friends; things couldn't have gotten any better.

Only, it did.

It was the weekend, and while most of her friends had gone to the beach, she stayed behind to get started on a number of requirements from her other classes. She was sitting under the shade of one of the many trees populating the campus grasslands. She was midway through a chapter on Carolingian Renaissance when two tall shadows loomed over her, making it too dark for her to read any further. She looked up, irked and ready to ask whoever they were what their problem was. The words escaped her, however, and she was left squealing at the sight of Victor and Garfield in front of her.

"What are you two doing here?" Kori asked, scooting to let them sit with her on the grass.

"What do you mean what are we doing here? What are _you_ doing here? And reading of all things." Garfield picked her book up and made a face. "A History on Carolingian Art? It's the weekend!"

Kori cocked her head to the side, confused. Victor rolled his eyes at his companion.

"Don't mind him, Kori. His brain shuts off during the weekend," Victor said, earning a sneer from Garfield.

"As it should!" Garfield exclaimed, laying down on the grass with his hands behind his head. "I don't know how you two do it, reading and practicing during the weekends. If you wanna do something to hone the body and the mind, why don't you guys come hiking with me?"

Kori and Victor whipped their heads to face Garfield, disbelief in their faces.

"You hike?" Victor asked, suspicious.

"Mhmm," Garfield replied, a smug smile on his face. "I go camping sometimes, too. There's nothing better than a break from the concrete jungle and into the nurturing arms of Mother Nature. Helps keep me looking young and handsome, you know."

Kori had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Victor, however, made no effort to hide his incredulity. The two started to engage in a battle of witty banters, every now and then asking Kori for confirmation, who was too busy enjoying herself to actually be of assistance.

It didn't take long for the textbooks to be forgotten, replaced with the conversations about random things around the university and, eventually, themselves.

"I still can't get over it," Victor said. "I mean, what are the odds of us all meeting at that same party?"

"I know. It's like someone up there pulled a lot of strings just to get us together," Garfield replied.

"Destiny?" Kori suggested.

"God?" Victor added.

Garfield scoffed. "No. Someone with money, time and a potential to be a sociopath."

"So, you mean everyone at that party," Kori said, chuckling, Victor and Garfield laughing along with her.

"Good one, Kor," Garfield said, settling from the high of laughing. "God, I hate those snobby rich pricks with their beady eyes and snobby accents. They're all the same – arrogant and condescending."

Kori pursed her lips. "Richard isn't like that."

Victor nodded in agreement. "Yeah. The guy's pretty down to Earth for someone affiliated to Bruce Wayne."

Garfield sat up in a flash, surprising Victor and Kori. His eyes were comically wide in shock and disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Victor and Kori gave each other confused looks. "Dick is Bruce Wayne's adopted son and heir to Wayne Enterprises," Victor explained slowly.

Garfield's mouth dropped open, his jaw falling lower and lower at each word. He remained quiet, mouth wide open and eyes distant, for a moment. It unnerved Kori, who reached out to nudge his shoulder. The contact was enough to shake him off whatever state he was in and he proceeded into a fit of adrenaline induced rage.

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL, HE IS?" he cried out, attracting the attention of other people. "WHY AM I JUST FINDING ABOUT THIS NOW?"

"We thought you knew," Kori said cautiously.

"Have you been living under a rock, boy?" Victor asked. "Dick is practically in the newspaper every other week."

"He's also on TV every now and then," Kori added.

"Yeah, I think TMZ did a couple of creepy segments on him before?"

"Oh, I saw that. It was painful to watch."

"So, you two are gossip buddies now?" Garfield ground out with contempt.

"Look Gar, just because all you want to watch is National geographic and Animal Planet doesn't mean that you don't have to watch anything else." Victor retorted. The two stuck their tongues out at each other.

Calming down, Garfield lay back down and sighed. "Well, at least I'm not the last one to know."

"I think Rachel knows," Kori said, hugging her knees.

"Please. Rachel barely looks at Dick, let alone talk to him."

"She might be more in touch with current events." Kori gave Garfield a teasing smile, which made him roll his eyes.

"I doubt it. Rachel isn't the type to have friends to gossip with."

The statement made Kori frown. She expected this kind of talk from her sorority sisters, but not from Garfield. "That's not very nice."

Garfield felt her disapproval and sat up. "Well, it's kinda true. I mean – '

"How do you know? How long have you known her? Have you actually talked to her?" A righteous anger rose up inside her. Something about Garfield's premature comments about Rachel rubbed her the wrong way. She knew how it felt to be called something on sight; she knew most first impressions were false and hurtful.

"I tried a couple of times, but she wouldn't."

"So where are you getting all this? You just assumed after a few classes?"

Garfield raised his hands; he was visibly nervous and Kori could see that he was thinking hard on his next words. "I'm sorry, Kor. It wasn't my intention to be mean."

"Well, you are. If this is how we're talking about Rachel behind her back, then it's no wonder that doesn't want to be friends with us."

Garfield blinked, not knowing what to say. Instead he looked away, his head hanging low. Beside him, Victor remained quiet. But he was looking at Kori differently, like he was glad she said that, but wary of her at the same time. Suddenly, shame overcame her; the familiar sense of self-consciousness that usually came whenever she thought she overstepped her boundaries – or whatever boundaries were set for her.

"I'm sorry, Garfield," she said, reaching out to pull at his arm.

Garfield looked back at her, a thin smile on his face. "Nah, don't be. You were right. I was being a jerk."

"Yeah, you were," Victor said, leaning back on his arms.

"Jerk or not, I was a tad too harsh on you. Forgive me?" Kori asked, batting her eyes playfully at him.

Garfield laughed. "Like I could ever get mad at you, Kor. That's like getting mad at a puppy."

"Well, this puppy has rabies and bites," Victor said, chuckling. "I like your spunk, kid."

Kori scrunched her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "What, you guys thought I was all just pink and glitters?"

"Yes," Victor and Garfield answered at the same time.

"Seriously? Now, I'm mad again."

III

Kori spent the rest of the day with Victor and Garfield, walking around the campus and eating at the café where they worked. She met Terra, whom she affectionately saw as a gender bent Garfield. When she pointed this out, Terra and Garfield grimaced, looked at each other in disgust, and threw insults back and forth. It was then that Kori discovered that banter was Garfield's favorite form of communication.

"You know, I've been thinking…" Garfield started.

"That's new," Victor mumbled.

"Shut up, Vic. As I was saying, I've been thinking about our essay. We're getting less and less time to meet up during Professor Watson's class. Why don't we just meet up on the weekends, like this?"

"That's…actually a good idea." Victor said, nodding his head. "I have football practice during the afternoon, though."

Kori raised her hand. "Cheerleading Practice."

"You guys practice on Sundays? Don't you go to church?"

Victor gave him a look. "We don't practice on Sundays. And you don't go to church, too"

Garfield shrugged. "Touche. Well, we can meet up during our free time on weekends. We'll get a lot more stuff done that way."

Kori scrunched her nose. "So, the five of us spending our weekends here when we could be anywhere…are we or are we not the Breakfast Club."

Garfield shook his head. "Nu-uh. Breakfast is too early for me. We can be the brunch club," he said through a mouthful of pasta.

"The brunch club?" This time, it was Victor who shook his head. "You know, you're making yourself an easy target for Rachel. I can practically hear her in my head now, dragging you."

Garfield sputtered a protest, sending spits of white sauce across the table. Kori flinched away. "Brunch club is genius. Rachel has this perfect Allison Reynolds vibe going on, and Kori is practically a young Molly Ringwald."

"So, who am I?" Victor asked.

"You, my friend, are Emilio Estevez. And I am Brian – brilliant, yet tragically underappreciated."

Kori and Victor were silent, both thinking the same thing. "So, Dick is Judd Nelson?" Victor asked.

"Yup."

They both burst out laughing, confusing Garfield. "I'm sorry, man, but there's no way in hell that Dick is Judd Nelson."

Garfield scowled. "Why not? Might I remind you, Dick pulled me from my serving duties like he couldn't care less if those rich snobs died of hunger. That was a different kind of bad-assery. And if not Judd Nelson, then who? Carl the janitor guy?"

"So, you're suggesting that Richard has this secret rebellious side to him?" Kori asked, trying hard to keep herself from laughing again. "That's intriguing."

"You know it, sister," Garfield replied with a wink.

* * *

 **Author's tete-a-tete:**

 **Argent82:** Thank you! IDK why, but Malchior was set even when I was just thinking about this story. He just keeps popping into my mind eveytime I think about how to hurt raven. Not that I think about that often...*whistles*

 **Princess Leyla:** Ugh That's exactly how I react whenever I finish writing a scene with Rorek in it. Sometimes, I just can't handle him...

 **AllyBabyPebbles:** Why, thank you teehee. I'm sure those "cute"'s are for the story, but imma just give one to mahself mhhmmm i'm greedy like that

 **Guest:** I'm sorry! Don't fret, I shall spoil you with BBRae and RobStar when the opportunity comes.

 **HunterMoore:** Thank you so much. Yeah, they're finally together...and it only took us 12 chapters to do that *cries*

 **GrayMatter:** I'm sorry, but I'll make sure to post a great BBRae story for you.

 **RavenMelonlord:** I always read your name in Toph's voice. It amuses me. Oh, Rachel and her many difficult relationships are emotionally draining to write. I always comfort myself with Gravity Falls and whatever's in the fridge. Right now, we have last night's left overs and carrots.


	17. Chapter 17

**Richard**

It took all of his willpower to keep him from bursting into song and dance. Gar was a gift from the gods – really, he was. The blonde maverick had just suggested to meet during the weekends, and Dick had to keep himself from immediately screaming his affirmation. He did not pull the greatest heist to get them altogether and only meet a few minutes during classes. He knew he was acting like an overly attached girlfriend, but the idea of actually just hanging out with people who did not require him to check out that chick over there or discuss the new school policy the board had passed was intoxicating.

Dick did not realize how hungry he was for sincere social relationships with his peers. He had been so used to keeping a certain manner that it had taken him years to find out how tired he was of it. He wanted to talk and be with people who did not demand him to be debonair and charming; he just wanted friends. He was starving for friendship so much, he did not bother to call out Gar for naming them the brunch club.

"So, are we or are we not taking brunch literally here?" Vic asked. "Do we only meet during brunch? Or are we required to have brunch whenever we meet? Because not having brunch just seems misleading."

"You just want an excuse to show off your skills," Gar said, giving Vic a knowing look.

"Don't act like your soul didn't go to heaven when you first tried my burger." Vic turned to Kori, whose brows had scrunched up in confusion, and said in an excited fit. "You have to try my burgers next time. It'll make your taste buds sing."

"Do we get a free taste, Vic?" Dick asked teasingly.

"In your dreams, pretty boy," Vic scoffed. He raised his hands in emphasis. "These skills don't come free."

Their chuckles echoed around the walls of the empty classroom. A classmate had announced earlier that Professor Watson was out for the day and that class was cancelled. The four of them decided to stay behind seeing as Rachel had not arrived and was not up to date with the news of the professor's demise. Gar had joked that maybe they'd finally see Rachel smile after telling her. Kori argued that Rachel did not hate Professor Watson _that_ much.

"Oh, trust me, she hates the guy," Gar said with a wave of his hand. "If Rae-rae could sacrifice a person to the zombies, I'd bet everything that she'd gladly throw Professor Watson to the swarm of the undead."

At that exact moment, the door opened and Rachel came in. She paused, her body suddenly rigid and alert. Her eyes scanned the room in confusion before settling at her group mates, huddled in a circle of desks.

"Speak of the devil, Rae-rae!" Gar called out, waving.

Rachel scowled. "The devil does not appreciate being called Rae-rae." She walked towards them, struggling as she lugged her cello case between the seats. "What happened here?" she asked.

"Professor Watson is out for the day. Apparently, he had to go to the doctor over an upset stomach," Dick explained.

Rachel smiled, which made Gar laugh and clap his hands. "Told you guys," he barked out.

"So, what are you four still doing here?" Rachel asked.

"Waiting for you," Kori answered with a smile. Her answer made Rachel blink rapidly; it was clear she was surprised. "We've been discussing the project and Gar suggested some things."

Rachel chuckled, sitting herself beside Vic, who helped her with her case. "What? We've got a band name now?" When she was met with silence and thin-lipped smiles, Rachel's face fell. "Oh god, no."

"Oh god, _YAS_!" Gar cried out, leaning back and spreading his hands as if he was welcoming someone into his mansion. "We are now the brunch club."

Rachel blinked rapidly – an action that was fast becoming a habit whenever she hung around them – and craned her neck forward. "Come again?"

"The brunch club. No need for flowers, although applause would do."

Dick prepared himself for Rachel's retort; over the past few meetings, he'd quickly learned how sharp her tongue could be, and she was sharpest when she was being sarcastic. But the retort never came. Instead, Rachel leaned back in her chair and asked, "I'm Allyson, aren't I?"

Gar clicked his tongue and winked at her. "Astute, Rae-rae. Very astute. Can you guess who I am?"

Rachel gave him a deadpan look. "Call me rae-rae one more time and everyone will have to guess who you are."

Kori turned away, her lips pursed to keep herself from laughing, but Vic and Dick did not bother hiding their mirth.

"I'm sorry, but do we have an ice pack? Because that clapback burrrnnneddd" Vic cried out, slapping his thigh.

"Soothing cream isn't required, but it would be greatly appreciated," Dick added, his voice wheezing. He and Vic kept laughing; beside them, Kori's shoulders were starting to shake, and a hand was covering her mouth. Gar glared at them, his eyes bouncing from one person to another until they settled at Rachel, who was smirking, admiring her handiwork.

III

"You don't think Gar is mad at us, don't you?"

Dick jumped at the voice, spinning around to find Kori just as wide-eyed as he was. "You scared me," he breathed out, clutching at his chest.

Kori grimaced, raising both hands in a defensive stance. "I'm so sorry. You're usually so…alert."

Dick looked back at his untidy satchel, then to the books in his hand. "I was preoccupied," he replied. "What were you saying?"

"Garfield. He seemed pissed." Kori shifted her bag off her shoulder and sat on the armrest of one of the chairs. She sat with her legs crossed, and even fully covered, her legs were a sultry display. Kori made sultry look so classy, however, and after a few stolen glances, Dick realized that the sight did not entice him. He was not someone who was easily aroused, but he could not deny a beautiful specimen when he saw one, and Kori was breathtaking. Although, there was something about the way she carried herself that made him look at her, but only within the boundaries of propriety.

"Nah. Garfield can appreciate a good joke, even when it's aimed at him," Dick replied, slinging his satchel over one shoulder before sighing and holding up the books in his hand, allowing Kori a good view of them. "If only he had the same appreciation for books. These were the ones he got from the library."

Kori stood up – Dick noted with ire how she was just as tall as him – and inspected one of the books. "Society Princesses: The life and times of Beverly – he got this for our research?"

"I didn't bother giving him a lecture; Vic assured me he already gave one."

"Maybe one of us should go with Gar next time. This is a student handbook," Kori muttered after looking at one of the books.

"Well, it's gotta be either you or Vic. Rachel won't go into a safe room with Gar during a nuclear war. And I've got a lot to do at the moment." He walked out of the classroom, Kori easily keeping stride beside him.

"Student Government banging at your door?" Kori asked with a smirk. It took a few seconds for Dick to just stare at her before giving an answer. Smirking was not something Kori did often around him, and at that moment, she looked absolutely stunning. "Everyday. She's a relentless, unforgiving mistress," he replied with a smirk of his own.

Kori marked out a laugh. Her strides were lighter, and she was practically bouncing when they crossed the courtyard. "Well, if politics is your mistress, then what are you formally married to?" she asked, her nose scrunched up from smiling.

Dick pursed his lips and looked up, thinking. After a moment, he looked back at her. "To nothing and to no one. I don't think I've been given the chance to actually commit to something wholly. It's the student government on some days, soccer and my brotherhood on others. I'm split up way too much to be tied down to just one thing just yet."

"I know the feeling," Kori mused, her smile faltering just a little bit as her eyes became glassy. "I belong to so many organizations, I don't know what to be when I get to the others. At times, I'm the cheerleader during a business meeting; some days, I'm the manager training at the football field. It's like your mind switches to something different because you need to behave a certain way with certain people, and it switches between one persona to the next so much, it becomes a jumbled mess."

Dick stared at Kori, surprised and saddened at how much she understood him. "You sound as tired as I am."

"Tired souls find each other, I guess." She smiled a thin smile. At that moment, despite the golden sunlight bathing her in an ethereal glow, Dick saw how old Kori was for her age. It showed at the tightness of her mouth, as if she were keeping as much words in as she could; at the sullen way her lids drooped just a little, and the change of green in her eyes, going from clear emerald to a deep, mossy green. She looked thoroughly exhausted, and Dick felt the understanding between them. She was trying to survive a life forced on her.

He looked away, wanting to say something but not knowing what. He knew the usual "it's going to be okay" or "just keep at it, and you'll be fine" won't work; from experience, he very well knew that some encouragement could only go so far. While Dick would not consider himself free to call his own shots, Bruce, at least, listened to his thoughts and respected his opinions; Kori sounded like she was leashed to a shorter, tighter chain.

Out of nowhere, an idea came to him. "Come with me," he said, turning to face Kori, who looked back at him in confusion. "I have class in 10 minutes," she answered.

Dick flashed her a smile – the most endearing one he could muster – and extended a hand to her. "Just one afternoon, Kor. It'll be worth it."

Kori only looked at him, her eyes shifting from confusion to anger. She probably thought he was trying to get her into trouble. Dick was stubborn, however, and he knew how far his stubbornness could get him. "Trust me," he added.

Kori frowned, and just as Dick was expecting her to turn and walk away, she let out a big sigh and took his hand.

III

"You've got to be kidding me."

Dick blinked at her through a mountain of popcorn and soda. "What do you mean?" he said through a mouthful of popcorn he'd already stuffed inside his mouth.

Kori planted a hand on her hip and raised the other, holding two tickets for Zoolander. Dick brought her to a small movie theater a few blocks down the university where they showed old movies. But, unlike other theaters that showcased films from the Golden ages starring the likes of Bogart Humphrey and Joan Crawford, their definition of old meant movies released anytime between the 80's and the early 2000's. "Of all the movies they're showing here, you chose this? Sixteen Candles is showing at cinema 2!"

Dick rolled his eyes and pulled at her hand, a feat considering he was hauling an armful of snacks without spilling a single kernel. "Kori, I do not have the strength to live through an entire coming of age movie with Molly Ringwald in it."

"Please don't tell me you don't like Molly, because I will punch you in the mouth," Kori replied, squinting her eyes at him as a form of threat.

"I do. It's just that, she tends to star in movies that really tug at the heartstrings, you know?"

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

'Interpret it however you want; we're still watching Zoolander," Dick answered teasingly. Kori opened her mouth to retort, but he pulled her into the dark before a word could escape her. A guard flashed his light towards them, blinding them for a moment, before he stepped away and left them to wander through the aisles aimlessly. "This looks like a good spot," Dick whispered, sitting down.

"It's Zoolander. The best seat here would not make it any better," Kori hissed back.

Dick lowered the popcorn from his face to give her an exaggerated gasp. "Why are you picking on Zoolander?"

"I don't know. Why did you pick Zoolander in the first place?"

"Have you ever even seen it?"

"No." Kori sat down slowly, grabbing for her popcorn sheepishly. "But it has an average rating on Rottentomatoes."

Dick scoffed. "You can't trust Rottentomatoes; Zoolander is a national treasure."

Kori raised an eyebrow, but smiled at him nonetheless. It made him wonder whether she really enjoyed his company or she was extremely tolerant of him. He hoped it was the former. The screen lit up, showing a ring of stars flying around a mountain peak that was the iconic credit to Paramount Pictures. Dick kept quiet, noting how Kori leaned towards him in her seat, although the distance between them was friendly. He smiled to himself and looked straight ahead. The movie was starting.

III

 **Victor**

Victor and Gar looked at the tray of burgers, salad, and fries, the former popping his chest out in pride. "Now, that's brunch," he boomed, giving Gar a slap on the back.

"Are you sure we're not charging them for this? I mean, this looks like something out of Gordon Ramsey's kitchen!" Gar exclaimed, extending both hands toward the tray to emphasize his point. "We're the brunch club, not the bourgeoisie. We'll live on stale fries and ketchup."

"What do you have against good food?" Vic asked, grabbing the tray before Garfield could do anything disastrous to it. They went out the kitchen and headed towards the booth occupied by their friends; Dick and Kori were chatting animatedly, Rachel listening to them with her head resting on her hand. Her eyes darted towards them, always alert, and she smirked at the sight of the abundant feast that Vic had prepared. "No way," she chuckled. Dick and Kori followed her gaze and broke out into bright smiles.

The café was open, and despite it being a weekend, only a few people were dining at the moment. Terra, bless her soul, had given Gar and Vic the thumbs up to spend the rest of their shift with the others; she could handle the café on her own. Garfield had given her a hug, making Terra blush and Vic – not for the first time – teased him about it. Time and time again, Gar explained that they were just the best of friends.

"Jesus, I feel bad for eating something this good without paying for it," Dick said in the middle of stuffing their faces.

"I don't," Rachel said, closing her eyes as she chewed on her burger.

The atmosphere had taken a very amiable turn, making everyone feel comfortable enough to start talking openly with each other. Rachel, although still quiet, was at least putting in her own ideas now. As they ate, they discussed their group project, setting a clear itinerary pf things to do and how to do it. Little by little, the conversation trickled to other channels, and it wasn't long before they forgot the project altogether.

They talked about Dick's countless extracurricular activities, and how he seemed immune to human fallibility. They talked about Kori's diverse social circles and how she seemed to be everything that is good in the world. They talked about Victor and how he would make any parent proud with all the talents he had. They talked about Garfield and how he was living life as it should be – carefree and happy. It was only when the conversation slowly swayed to focus on Rachel that they started feeling self-conscious.

The sudden uneasiness was so thick in the air, Victor could have sliced it with a knife. He wasn't ignorant; he knew that behind the smiles and the laughter, each one of them had their own demons to face in secret. But the thing with Rachel was, she didn't keep it a secret. He had no idea what demons she faced, but she wore her struggle like an armor, and she went through each day armed with sarcasm and an unfathomable amount of determination. To try and bring it up without her permission made Vic feel sick, and so, he smoothly maneuvered the conversation elsewhere. The others followed without a hitch, drowning the discomfort with laughter; from the corner of his eye, Vic could see Rachel giving him a small smile.

III

"Thanks."

Vic jumped, one hand reaching for the nearest thing lying next to him, while the other was raised in front of him like a shield. Through his fingers, he could see Rachel, wide eyed and lifting her cello case in a defensive position. They both looked like Tekken players posing after someone had hit the pause button.

"Jesus Christ, Rachel, can't you make a sound every now and then? You're gonna give me a heart attack, and I'm barely 20!" Vic cried out, clutching at his chest.

Rachel relaxed and placed her cello case back down beside her. "Don't worry. It won't happen again, lest you scoop me to death,' she said, grinning and nodding towards Vic's hand. He looked down and realized that in his fear, he had grabbed a ladle. He shrugged sheepishly and held it up. "This can be very dangerous in the hands of a creative person," he defended. "What are you doing back here anyway? You usually leave first."

It was Rachel's turn to shrug her shoulders, looking at her feet as she explained, "I just wanted to…thank you…for saving me back there. I wouldn't have known what to say if they asked something I wasn't ready to answer."

"No problem," Vic said, grinning at her. "I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have pushed if you didn't want to talk, though."

"You don't know that,' Rachel scoffed. "People tend to stick their noses where they don't belong. Garfield certainly seems to."

"He sure does. It's one of his charming qualities."

Rachel snorted at this, giving him a look of disbelief. "Now, you're just being biased."

Victor laughed as he started turning off the kitchen lights and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Maybe I am, but I've really gotten to know him these past weeks and he's a good person. A rascal, but good. You'd know if you hung out with us more."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just…I'm not comfortable with the others yet. You seem okay. So does Kori. But Richard and Gar…"

"They do take some time to get used to, but when you do, they're worth it, Rae. Take my word for it."

Rachel frowned, glaring at him with eyes that glinted like daggers in the night. "Don't call me that," she hissed, her lips curling up in a threatening snarl. "Call me 'Rae' again, and no ladle in the world will save you from me."

III

 **Kori**

The past few days had been heaven for Kori. She'd been spending most of her time with Richard and her other group mates, and every time they hung out together, she was left with a feeling of contentment, like everything should be just as it was right at that moment.

Richard had been especially attentive towards her, and while she felt a bit smothered by it, she was also flattered and deeply appreciative. He did not seem to like her for her affiliations; in fact, he could not care less about who her sister was or what organizations she belonged to, he just seemed to like her, period. The thought made her feel warm and happy, as if her existence was being acknowledged for the very first time.

Her phone rang, waking her from her blissful reverie. It was her sorority sister calling. Kori answered it, smiling widely. "Donna! I just had the most perfect Saturday in my entire li-"

"Kori, your sister's here."

She stopped in the middle of the road, her smile vanishing in an instant. Her phone suddenly felt heavier, and the street twisted and lurched, making her shiver with vertigo. It did not take a second for her whole world to suddenly become so dark and grim; the events of the past days now seemed like a distant dream. The mere mention of her sister drove away every ounce of happiness in her, pulling her into a dark abyss of loneliness and claustrophobia – an abyss that was her reality.

Her sister was an anchor, a constant reminder that Kori was not meant for a life where she had friends, where she hung out in cafes talking about books and movies, where she was genuinely happy, but rather, a life controlled by Camille, and by Camille alone. She would do whatever Camille said, and be whatever Camille dictated she would be. She had forgotten that for that past days, and suddenly remembering it was excruciating.

"Kori?"

Donna's worried voice pulled Kori away from the sadness that was snaking around her chest. She shook her head and breathed in deeply, making sure to keep her voice steady despite the scream that was clawing at her throat. "Thanks, Don. Can you please tell her I'm on my way? I just came from the library."

"Sure thing. Be safe."

The walk back to her dormitory was shorter than Kori expected, and before she knew it, she was standing outside her door, cold sweat running down her temples and the taste of bile clinging to her tongue. What was Camille doing here? She never visited during the weekend, let alone go up and wait in her room. Her hands clutched at the door knob and slowly – slowly – turned it.

Camille was sitting by the study table next to her bed, her face hidden by the deep shadows of the room, except for her eyes which glinted dangerously.

"Good evening, sister-"

"Your dean called me. You missed a class three days ago, but you were present for the rest of the day. Strange, isn't it?" Camille leaned her head against her hand, a ring on her finger flashing brightly, blinding Kori for a second. "Where were you, Kori?"

 _Lie, Kori, lie. Don't drag Richard into this,_ Kori repeated in her mind like a mantra. She kept quiet for a moment, biding her time to collect herself. But Camille was having none of it. In a flash, she swept her hand over the books lying on Kori's desk, sending them flying all over the floor. Her eyes shone like a predator as she stood up and stalked towards Kori, her usually calm lips curled back menacingly. "Where were you?" she screamed.

"I was with Richard," Kori whispered fearfully, clutching at her skirt tightly. Camille hitting her was nothing new. Kori just had to be ready for it. Strangely enough, nothing happened. Kori could see Camille's furious eyes glinting in confusion, then realization, and finally, dimming into acceptance and something she could not quite explain. Satisfaction? Approval?

"Richard…Grayson?" Camille asked softly, looking at Kori as if seeing her for the first time. "Bruce Wayne's son?"

"Yes," Kori said hesitantly. What was happening? Why wasn't Camille lashing at her? "He invited me…to watch a movie with him."

Camille was quiet for a minute. Two. Three. Then, she smiled, making Kori shiver. "You're finally doing some good for once, aren't you?" she whispered, raising a finger and gently running it against Kori's cheek. "Did you two enjoy each other's company?"

Kori was confused, but she nodded her head. This seemed to please Camille.

"And have you been spending time together these past days?" she asked. Again, Kori nodded, making her sister smile even more. It was the first time Kori had seen her sister genuinely pleased over something she was involved. "Good," was all Camille said before taking her purse and walking towards the door.

Just before she went out, Camille looked back, and said in a voice that Kori had never heard before, "Do make sure to invite him for dinner next Saturday, Kori." And with that, she left Kori, drowning in the confusion and the irrational feeling that something very bad was about to happen.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey there guys!**

 **I know, I've been a no show for such a long time, and I feel really shitty about it. Some things ahve happened in the past months, and it took a bit of time time to cope with all of them, but I'm back to writing, and I hope I'll be able to update faithfully when 2018 starts.**

 **Thank you for all of you who have stayed and waited - I'll make it up to you, I swear.**

* * *

 **Garfield**

"I'm thinking of asking Rachel out."

The silence was disturbed by the simultaneous clanging of pots hitting the ground. Terra and Vic looked at Gar as if he'd grown another head, both of them immobile and indifferent to the utensils that had just fallen from their grasps. Gar was rooted to the spot as well, too embarrassed to move now that his friends were paying their full attentions to him.

Another minute of awkward staring passed before Terra shook her head, eyes blinking rapidly, and bent down to pick up the pans. When she stood back up, she opened her mouth, as if to say something, but thought better of it and shut it up. Victor, however, was collected enough to let out a loud, "Did you hit your head on the way here?"

"I'm being serious, Vic," Gar said, rolling his eyes.

"So am I. I mean, where did this come from?"

Garfield shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the counter. "I don't know. Just this Saturday, I guess. She was…friendlier, and I thought she would be cool to hang out with alone."

"Wait. This Rachel girl, she's the one with the leather jacket and the cello, right?" Terra asked. When Vic affirmed her question, she gave a loud whistle. "You are in way over your head, Gar."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Terra gave a sheepish shrug and a look that said she didn't want to delve deep into it, but Gar insisted, and so, she squared her shoulders and explained in the gentlest voice she could muster, "You're not really…cool material."

Vic turned around to stifle a laugh, but the violent trembling of his shoulders gave him away, and Gar whacked him on the arm for it. He then turned on Terra. "What do you mean I'm not cool material? For your information, I am very cool. Probably cooler than Rachel is."

"Sure you are," Terra scoffed. "Look Gar, the girl wears leather jackets as a daily fashion staple. She carries a cello case around her all day, and she eats a burger like it's a piece of art – which it is, Vic."

Garfield planted both hands on his hips and grimaced. "So?"

"So, Don Juan, she is way more sophisticated than you. Your fashion staple is a shirt with vintage video game prints; the only thing you carry around all day is your harmonica; and you eat like there's no tomorrow. While you're not a hopeless case, you're just…too different."

Garfield took a moment to mull this over. "You have a point," he said with a pout. "But I don't see these differences as hindrances, only challenges to overcome."

"Why are you pushing it with Rachel, Gar? She's barely comfortable with you as a friend, let alone a potential date," Victor said. Beside him, Terra was nodding in agreement. This upset Garfield, and he raised his hands in defeat.

"I don't believe it," he exclaimed. "From my own friends."

Terra frowned and tugged at the helm of her shirt, clearly guilty. "Gar-"

"This is about the Gelato thing, isn't it?" Gar pointed an accusatory finger at Terra, who jumped back in surprise. She frowned and swatted his finger away. "Seriously?' she screamed.

"Seriously," Gar retorted. He glared down on Terra in an attempt to intimidate her, but the latter only stood up straighter and glared back. When the stare down finally went over a minute, Vic intervened and pried them away from each other. "You're both acting like a couple of kids," he grumbled. He turned to face Gar and crossed his arms. "If you want to go after Rachel, we're gonna help you-"

"We are?" Terra asked.

"Yes, we are. But," Vic raised a finger and pressed it against Garfield's forehead. "You have to listen to us. We're looking out for you, man. You gotta trust us when we say things. It's for your own good."

"Like when Terra said I wasn't cool material?"

"That may not have come out right, but it was said with good intentions," Terra quipped. She took her apron off, folded it neatly and set it aside before hopping up the counter beside Gar. She snaked an arm around his shoulder and grinned. "So, where do we start, Gar?"

III

"No."

Rachel sidestepped and continued walking, trying to tune out the insistent whining from Gar. "But, Rae-rae-" Rachel gave him a deadly glare. "Rachel. I meant Rachel. Rachel, please. Dick expects me to give him the research references later today."

"And why is that my problem?" Rachel scoffed, putting her cello case down to fish out her wallet from her bag. "Last time I checked, you're the one who picked out Society Princesses." She paid the vendor for a bagel, took her cello case and continued walking.

"I know, I screwed up," Gar wheezed, out of breath from having to catch up. "But since it's your shift this week, I thought maybe you'd like to go the library together."

Rachel let out a laugh that sounded like something coming from a Disney Villain. She stopped – much to the delight of Gar's lungs - and turned to face Gar, her eyebrows knitted in an expression of pity or frustration, he couldn't tell. "Garfield, Victor is practically your man-wife, and even he wouldn't step into a library with you. What makes you think I would?"

"Well, because if you do, you get to spend some quality time with yours truly." Gar flashed a dazzling smile, posing like he was a gift she should be thankful for. She wasn't. Instead, Rachel scowled and turned to leave, but Gar caught her by the arm. "Please, Rae, I'm desperate."

"Gee, really? You don't sound like it."

"I'll treat you to one of Vic's burgers."

"One isn't going to do it for me."

"Two burgers!"

"Garfield, let me go."

"Why won't you come with me?"

"Why do you want me to come with you?"

Garfield pressed his lips together, his grip on Rachel's sleeve slackening. This was not going according to plan. He spent the entire night with Vic and Terra, going through phase after phase of how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to ask Rachel to accompany him to the library; she was supposed to say yes; they were supposed to bond over forgotten books; Rachel was supposed to like him by the end of the day, or at least, not have the urge to kill him anymore. He just wanted her to like him.

"What?" Rachel asked, her forehead creasing as her eyebrows bunched up. It was only then that Garfield realized he'd said that out loud.

"I…" There was no use denying it now. "I just want you to like me. Like you do Vic and Kori-"

"I don't like either of them."

"Well, at least you don't hate them!"

Rachel froze. Where did Garfield get that idea? Out of nowhere, Vic's words from last night resonated in her head, banging against her skull like a bullet. _He's a good person. A rascal, but good. You'd know if you hung out with us more._ She knew nothing about Garfield Logan, but he knew nothing about her too, aside from what he saw which was her being antagonistic towards people who just wanted to make friends with her. No wonder Garfield would think she hated him. "I don't hate you," she said quietly.

This surprised Gar. "Really?"

"Yes. And…if you thought that then I guess I must've been a real bitch to you." Rachel sighed and crossed her arms, looking far away. She was thinking. What harm would it do to humor Garfield? Surely nothing fatal. If neither she nor Garfield enjoyed each other's company, she could trust herself to be blunt about it. If they did, however, then it would be something she's never experienced before – enjoying another's presence. And it really is her shift to get research material this week, so it's killing two birds with one stone. "Alright. I'll go to the library with you."

Garfield's eyes went comically wide and he let out a whoop, which was too much for Rachel but she said nothing. He was practically jogging in place out of excitement. "Well, then, let's go! But you gotta finish that bagel, first. No food allowed in the library."

"Calm down, Garfield. It's just the library." Rachel walked slowly, taking her time with her bagel despite Garfield's restlessness. He was going on a cycle of rushing ahead and walking back to her, and it reminded Rachel of a very playful Golden Retriever.

III

"Rae, you know you can't check all these books out, right?" Garfield grunted behind the tower of books he was carrying. Walking steadily in front of him, Rachel hummed and leisurely took one book after another, piling it up on Gar's arms. It was punishment for being careless with his last trip to the library, which resulted into a lengthy scolding from Dick about responsibility and being "a week behind schedule"; even Kori, who was as patient as a saint, was worn down by his rant, so Rachel took it upon herself to avenge her groupmates.

But she made sure not to be too mean, in light of the recent epiphany on her shitty attitude towards others, and made it up to Gar by humoring him whenever he started a conversation. They actually got along better than she expected, with his constant giddiness about everything making up for her cynicism. He also had really thick skin, and her jokes – most of them made on his expense – bounced off him easily. And while she was still pretty much reserved about her own life, Gar treated his like an open book.

"My mom and dad are veterinarians, so I grew up surrounded by animals. When I was a younger, I spent more time with cats and dogs than with other kids my age. You'd be surprised how animals can help you be more sociable, though," he said as they placed the books down on a table. "Did you have a pet when you were a kid?"

"No," Rachel answered, going through the books to check which ones they should leave behind.

"We had a number of pets when I was small. We had two dogs, Bonnie and Beau. They're practically just as old as I am. I also had a turtle named Hogarth and a tarantula named Steve."

Rachel dropped the book she was holding and looked at Gar, the corners of her lips tugging up in a smirk she was clearly trying to hide. "You have a tarantula…and you named him Steve?"

Garfield gave a nonchalant shrug. "Steve is a great name."

"Steve is a name you give someone with a blue dog, not a tarantula."

Garfield laughed. "Rae-rae are you scared of spiders?" He leaned forward, daring to get as near her as possible. Rachel did not seem to mind, and he flashed her a grin, displaying his ridiculously sharp canines for view.

"Tell me more about your pets," Rachel purred, leaning against her hand. She was scared of spiders, but she wasn't about to tell Garfield that. She knew what he was trying to do, and while she appreciated his efforts, she just was not ready to open herself up, whether it was something so trivial like her fear of spiders or something deeply personal like why she was afraid of them.

Gar carried most of the conversation, even after they'd left the library, both their arms stacked with books. Rachel was insistent that they carry the lot, lest they face another of Dick's speeches.

"I swear, one of these days, I'm going to hex that guy," Rachel muttered under her breath.

"Hex him? That's troublesome, why not just trip him while he's walking or something?" Gar sniggered. "Besides, I thought you liked Dick. I mean, he can be a mother hen at times, but he's cool."

"Uh-huh, sure."

Gar stopped, his eyes wide in shock and amusement. "Holy shit, you hate him!" he cried out in glee.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Why do you automatically assume that I hate people? I barely know either of you enough to actually harbor sentiments that deep. He's just…suspicious. Then again, he is some sort of politician."

"I'm sorry, you just seem so…pissed when you're with us, like we're making you go through a marathon of really bad movies."

"I just don't know how to make friends, okay, Gar?" Rachel huffed before she could stop the words from spilling out her mouth. "I don't know how making friends works – how do you open yourself up to complete strangers without risking them thinking you're just another freak they should tolerate until everything is over and they avoid you like the plague?"

They both stared at each other, surprised at the sudden outburst. It was the most that Rachel had said since they'd been together and Gar was trying hard to understand the thoughts behind what she said. Out of nowhere, he remembered the things he said about her the past weekend, and he was guilt coursed through him. Jesus, Kori was right.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking down at his feet.

"For what?' Rachel glared at him. She was uncomfortable at where the conversation was going; she'd already said enough.

"I…thought you were a freak before, too."

Gar prepared himself for a violent reaction – screaming, crying, books flying towards him – but nothing came. Instead, Rachel let out a bark of laughter. It was empty and mirthless, but nonetheless, it caught Gar by surprise.

"So, why are you here with me now?" Rachel asked, looking him in the eyes. They drilled into his with such a demanding force, he could not look away.

"Because I was wrong," was all he could say. They stood facing each other for what seemed like an eternity before Rachel nodded her head, beckoning Gar to follow her as she started a slow-paced walk. Still, none of them said a word. Gar was beginning to think that he'd fucked everything up when Rachel sighed. "What made you change your mind?"

"Um…Kori, actually," Gar replied, smiling sheepishly. "She can be very passionate about some things."

"Like what?"

Garfield turned to her and flashed her a smile that contradicted how serious his eyes were. "Like judging a person before getting to know them."

III

Terra turned at the clink of the door. It was late at night, Vic had already gone home, and on account of his date with Rachel, Gar should not be here, which only meant that someone she did not know was in the café with her. She drew the kitchen knife that was still slick with soap and stepped carefully around the counter, craning her neck to see over the kitchen door she'd left ajar. A tall shadow was approaching. Sucking in a deep breath, she sunk down and hid, knife poised in her hand just in case.

The few seconds of silence and suspense were the longest of Terra's life, and when she heard Gar calling out for her, she let out a breathy sob and jumped out of her hiding place, slamming the knife down on the counter and making her friend jump. "What the fuck, Gar? You scared the bejeezus out of me!" she shrieked, hands shaking in front of her.

Gar dropped the books he was carrying without a second thought and rushed towards her, eyes as wide as hers. "Sweet Anthony Hopkins, Terra, I'm sorry," he said, taking her in his arms. Terra hugged him back just as fiercely, letting the fear dissipate into thin air. When she finally got a hold of herself, she pushed him away and gave him a sharp smack on the arm. "You're supposed to be with Rachel," she accused. "It's far too early, for date standards anyway."

Gar did not answer. Instead, he jumped up the counter beside her and sat, slumped back with his weight on his arms. He looked thoughtful, which was a rare occurrence since Garfield's mind practically ran as fast as a bullet train, and as incoherent and unpredictable as Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Terra gave him time, finishing up her washing before drying her hands and joining him on the counter.

"You're right, Ter," he said, his voice low and raspy.

Terra frowned. She had hoped this date would go well for Gar, but a small part of her was happy, and it made her feel twice as bad. "What do you mean?" she asked, her own voice just as soft. She could tell this would be one of their more serious conversations.

"Me and Rachel…we're too…different." He looked down on his hands, and what struck Terra was that he did not look heartbroken or hurt, but rather concerned.

"What happened, Gar?"

Garfield looked at her and gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes. "You know, I never knew how easy I had it until I started hanging out with you?" Terra returned his half-hearted smile. Where was this going? "I thought any problem could be solved with a joke, you know. I mean, laughter always worked for the both of us. We always managed to keep our heads above water by just laughing shit off. But…with Rachel…" He sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. "How much hurt do you have to endure to be so jaded?"

"Gar, I don't understand-"

"She's been through a lot of shit, Ter. And I don't know what to do."

They both stayed quiet, neither of them knowing what to say. The silence was deafening, and it was all Terra could do not to laugh. Like Garfield had said, it was how they coped. But she thought laughing would not be the best thing to happen right now. So, she laced her fingers through Gar's and gripped his hand tight.

"You and Vic were right. Rachel doesn't need someone chasing after her right now. She needs a friend. And…I don't know if I can be a good one…"

Terra snorted. "Why? Because you don't have a sob story? Because you go through life laughing and giving your problems the finger?" Things were starting to clear up in her mind, and while she was relieved that Gar's course of action towards Rachel had changed to something more platonic, she could allow her own petty concerns to overshadow Gar's more urgent one. "Gar, I don't know what this Rachel chick has been through, and I don't know what she's said that's made you so scared to be yourself, but maybe – just maybe – that's exactly what she needs: a friend like you."

Garfield raised an eyebrow. "I'm not following."

It was Terra's turn to sigh and look thoughtful. "Not everyone is like you, Gar. Not everyone has the luxury of living a good life and being so light-hearted about everything. That's not a bad thing, you know. You're sympathetic, and you care a lot, and that goes a long way. It did for me." She turned to him and gave him a smile – a smile she reserved just for him. "What I'm saying is, maybe Rachel does need a friend like you. Blast some sunshine on her emo world or whatever."

Garfield blinked, taking everything Terra said in, letting it sink into his head until he finally got it. It made him smile back at her.

"Also," Terra added, "You're pretty damn persistent. That Rachel chick is stuck with you, whether she likes it or not."

This made Gar laugh, and he snaked an arm around Terra's shoulder, bringing him down with her as he sunk down against the counter. The kitchen tiles were cold, and it seeped through his jacket and into his skin. Terra felt warm beside him. "What would I do without you, Ter?"

Terra smiled, and just as she was about to reply, a thought took hold of her. It came suddenly out of nowhere, and it gripped her heart, coiling around it like a snake, and all she could feel was dread. She did not know why, but she was certain that she was losing Gar. That this was it – the first piece of the puzzle that did not include her, and she was helping him complete it. She couldn't answer Gar, because deep down, she knew he could still go on living without her, and it hurt her to think about it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello reader,**

 **This chapter is a bit more intense than the last ones and I think a trigger warning for attempted rape would be proper.**

* * *

Despite his last name, no, Victor was not made of stone. He was privy to fear, especially during moments like this, when he waited inside the locker rooms with his teammates, listening to the cheers and chants outside. Those minutes before marching out to the field and starting the game were always the worst because that was when the doubts came. What if he did everything wrong? What if he forgot how the play went? What if the ball slipped through his fingers? These thoughts always haunted Victor before every game, because he could not take the disappointment of a whole stadium of people on top of the disappointment his father already had for him.

"Get ready," his coach called out from the door, and everyone stood up.

Victor bowed his head, whispering a last prayer before he grabbed his helmet and stood up, shaking his shoulders to try and ease the tension in him.

"Ready to crush some skulls, Vic?" A lean young man with bright red hair and a wolfish grin stepped up beside him.

"I'll leave the skull crushing to you, Roy. I'm just trying to stay alive." Victor replied with a grin of his own, although it veered more towards appearing nervous than wolfish.

The whole team marched out of the room in unison, and in a few strides, they were out of the shadows of the dome and into the bright field. The voices of countless students rose in a deafening roar, and it fueled Victor's veins with spirit. The fears and doubts slowly evaporated in the heat of the cheers and chants, and by the time Victor put his helmet on and jogged towards the center of the field, he was pumped up. He was the Victor Stone he was supposed to be, the Victor Stone who could not – and would not - disappoint. It felt really good to be that Victor. Before they got into their formation, he turned to one side of the bleachers, where he knew Gar would be, and smiled when he saw the blonde rascal flanked by Terra, Dick and Rachel. Down by the track oval in front of them, leaning against the railings with her squad was Kori, and she was flashing him the biggest smile and two thumbs up.

They all came for him. That was the last thought Vic had as he crouched down, and at that very moment, he was certain that he was indestructible.

III

"Jesus, the atmosphere here is electrifying," Terra said with a whistle, looking around her with bright blue eyes.

"Forgive my friend," Gar said in a foreign accent, running his hand through Terra's hair like a person might pet a dog, "She is not used to the good life."

Rachel snorted, shocking Dick. Rachel joining them to see Vic's game was a pleasant surprise, even more so when Rachel actually started talking to them. She was significantly friendlier, even waving back to Kori when the latter called her from afar. Dick did not know what happened to make her more open towards them, but he was not complaining.

"Don't be such a jerk, Gar," Terra cried out, slapping her friend's hand away. For a second, it looked like she was about to lash out more, but instead, her face took on a snobbish look, her eyes drooping, and she puffed out her hair with a dainty hand, pinky finger sticking out. "It cost my sugar daddy a lot for this keratin treatment."

Their laughter was drowned out by the cheers and scream of the people around them. They all turned back towards the field and saw that the players were scattering quickly. The game had started.

Rachel could feel the pressure building up inside her chest; this whole ordeal was making her uncomfortable. It wasn't that she disliked it – there was something private about being surrounded by a sea of people who were too preoccupied to notice you – rather, she just wasn't used to it. However, she'd made a deal with Gar last night, and while she may be a lot of things, she wasn't one to go back on her word.

Beside her, Dick and Garfield were discussing the game unfolding before them; Terra stood quietly beside Gar. She sensed her staring and turned just enough to give her a small smile. Rachel went rigid and looked away, only to berate herself afterwards. She could have at least smiled back. Her inability to act normal in situations like this was a testament to how socially deprived she was. She made a mental note to get out more.

III

The only time Victor felt so sure of himself was when he was running though the football field, pushing through the exhaustion. He could barely feel the pain in his body with the adrenalin coursing through his veins. In this field, all the doubt he had earlier were stomped with every stride he took. In this field, he could do no wrong. In this field, he was someone Dr. Silas Stone would be proud of.

The cheers became dull as he ran, his gfdsathoughts focusing at one point ahead of the sea of green. He barreled his way towards it, all senses focused on his person, the ball tucked tightly against him and those who were getting too close. He deftly dodged a couple of players from the opposing team; a teammate blocked the third one, but the fourth one finally made contact with him. The tackle was enough to rattle Victor's teeth, and he closed his eyes as he hit the ground. The weight of another person crashed down against his body, and he grunted out in pain.

III

Rachel could hear Kori's gasp from the bleachers, and it was echoed by countless other voices. It wasn't until she caught Dick eyeing her that she realized she'd let out a gasp of her own. His eyes were not intrusive, but they gleamed with scrutiny, and Rachel found herself feeling a bit self-conscious at his inspection. What was he trying to find?

"That looked painful," she barked out, trying to snap him out of his reverie since he didn't show any signs of doing so.

Dick blinked and nodded his agreement. "With the speed Vic was going, it sure was." And he proceeded to explain something about velocity and impact that Rachel could not quite keep up with considering the noise around them, but she managed to catch the main gist of what he was saying. She heard that Dick was smart, and she might be guilty of some prejudice towards him because she was shocked to hear him spill scientific jargon like it was some slang he used in everyday conversation. "But don't worry, Vic's tough. It'll take more than a tackle to rattle him."

Rachel scoffed. "Well, they don't call him The Cyborg for nothing."

Dick's head spun so fast, Rachel was surprised it didn't unscrew itself from his neck. "They call him what?"

"The Cyborg. Garfield said Vic had the moniker since he was in highschool."

A strange haze came over Richard's eyes, and the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a lopsided grin, although Rachel was pretty sure it wasn't aimed at her. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she turned her attention away from him and back to the game. She did not know a lot about football, but judging from the lively cheers of the people behind her, and the frustrated groans from the opposing team's audience, the odds were in their favor.

Garfield let out a loud whoop, half his body leaning over the railings of the bleachers. Terra's hand was bunched up behind his shirt, holding fistfuls of it to keep him from tipping over. "Can't you just stand up straight and cheer like all the other normal people?" she hissed, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"I'm not just cheering, Ter. I'm sending support to Vic telepathically."

"I'll send you over this railing telepathically!"

"That's telekinesis-"

"Just stand up straight-"

Rachel watched this exchange with quiet amusement. Victor was right – there was more to Garfield underneath the mischievous façade. She did not have much faith in people, but she'd witnessed something during her time with Gar that made her think that maybe, just maybe, hanging out with this mismatched bunch would actually be different. Perhaps they would be able to keep up with her constant melancholy and cynicism, and maybe she could keep up with their own quirks, and finally – finally, she'd have friends.

Her eyes shifted towards Richard, who was leaning over the railing as he watched the game unfold with deep interest. Then, to Kori, smiling widely as she bounced on her toes, chanting with her teammates. It was possible, she thought, allowing herself flicker of hope. It was possible.

III

They'd won.

Victor basked in the blinding lights, the crushing weight of his teammates' bodies as they hugged, pushed and pulled at him from every direction, and the deafening roar of a sea of voices chanting, "Lockhearth! Lockhearth! Lockhearth!" He basked in it all, drinking every drop of euphoria while it was still ripe in the air. He basked in it while he still could, because he knew that when he went back into the shower rooms, back into the silence and loneliness of his own company, he'd be overwhelmed by the thought that his father was, once again, absent.

He turned his head and found his friends. Garfield was practically standing on the railings, cheering wildly as Terra desperately tried to anchor him down. Beside them, Dick and Kori were waving at him; even Rachel was smiling, undisturbed by Kori's arm draped around her shoulders. Thoughts of his father could wait. Right now, everything was alright.

The team gradually made their way back towards the locker rooms and Vic found himself walking with Roy Harper. The redhead still wore his wolfish grin despite the bruise slowly forming around his jaw.

"What happened there, Roy?" Vic asked, nodding at the bruise. "Got that during the game?"

Roy looked down before realizing he couldn't see his own jaw and laughed. "Nah. Chuck hit me with his helmet while he was pushing his way to you." The wolfish grin turned into something more teasing. "Hope you can keep the girls away at the party, Vic."

Vic chuckled. "What girls? I'm a taken man, Harper."

"More for me then."

"By the way, Roy, I was wondering if I could bring some friends along."

Roy brought a hand to his chest and let out a dramatic gasp. "Don't tell me you have some new favorite people, big guy. I'm the jealous type, you know. And I need my wingman!"

Vic gave him a push, hard enough to make him stumble a bit. "Quit dragging me into your shenanigans, man."

"Did you just say 'shenanigans', Stone?"

Vic shook his head, but he was grateful for Roy's company. Something dark was already nagging at his chest, and he knew it was easy to extinguish his feeling of victory. Distracting himself never worked, not for long anyway, but he hoped he'd be able to hold off the disappointment just a little while longer. His team had just won one of the biggest matches of the season, and his friends were them to cheer for him. If anything, at least he had them to be proud of him. Victor stood straighter and shook off the gloom bearing down on him. This would be a good night. His father could wait.

To his surprise, he found the others clueless about the party. He'd assumed that Dick would invite them, seeing as he and Roy were frat brothers. The invitation sent Garfield, who was already high on the game, wild.

"No freaking way!" He shrieked, grabbing at Vic's jacket. "You're kidding. Tell me you're not kidding!"

"Calm down, man," Vic said, struggling to pry Gar off him. For someone so lanky, he had a pretty good grip. "It's just a party."

"Just a party?" Gar's voice was practically shrill with hysteria. "It's not just a party, Vic, it's a frat party! It's, like, the college equivalent of a VIP party."

"Geez, Gar, you're practically drooling," Terra chided. "If he keeps this up, I'm going to the party alone."

III

Dick led the way to their frat house. By the time they arrived, the party was already on full swing. Every window was alight, framing people crowded against each other as they danced and drank. Music boomed from the open double doors where Roy and another member were greeting guests. Seeing the group approaching, Roy smiled and jogged down the stairs, meeting them halfway.

"Surprised you came early, Dick," he said, clasping Richard's shoulder.

"Surprised you can still jog after the beating you got on the field," Dick answered smoothly. Anyone looking closely would notice that his posture changed, wearing an air of nonchalance loosely around him. He was in the territory of his brothers, and he had to play the part.

Roy rolled his eyes at him and turned toward the others. His smile turned predatory. "Aren't you gonna introduce me to your friends?" he asked, although his body leaned towards Kori's direction. Richard took a subtle step towards her in a show of protectiveness, but Kori just smiled and offered her hand. "Kori Anders," she said.

"Roy Harper. Pleased to make your acquaintance," Roy accepted her hand and bowed to press his lips on it. Dick was about to tell him off when Kori brought her hand on top of the other and shook Roy's hand forcefully. "Likewise," she answered sweetly, a certain edge to her voice. Vic chuckled softly; beside him, he could see Rachel smirking.

"As fiery as her hair, I see," Roy purred, standing up and putting a respectful distance between them. Dick proceeded to introduce him to the others, grateful to note that Roy had toned down on his flirting. Upon reaching victor, Roy feigned a dramatic gasp.

"Is this the famous Victor Stone?" he cried in an octave Dick did not expect he could reach. "I am such a big fan sir. Would you mind signing my arm? I'm thinking about getting it tattooed later." Roy flexed his arm, more for the benefit of the girls than Victor, Dick suspected. Vic placed a huge hand on Roy's face and playfully pushed him away.

Roy led them inside the huge bricked house, its interior a smart combination of modern minimalism and vintage, which was a testament to how old the fraternity was. Rachel would've admired the portraits hanging on the wall if only she could see pass the bodies of people dancing and talking and making out. The walls thrummed with music and the bland whiteness of the ceiling lights were disrupted by intervals of multicolored strobe lights.

"Feel free to roam around and enjoy. Mi casa es su casa," Roy said, spreading his arms out wide and bowing. He gave Kori one last wolfish grin before leaving them to join the fray. Rachel felt the familiar sense of claustrophobia creeping in and looked to the others for something – anything – to do. Kori was nodding towards the other room, where a DJ was playing his mixes and the furniture set aside for people to dance. Rachel gave a wry smile as a polite decline, but Gar and Dick went with her.

Vic brushed the back of his head in a hesitant gesture and looked down at Rachel and Terra. "Um…I gotta go look for Karen. You guys good for a while?"

Terra took a glance at Rachel and shrugged her shoulders. "Sure. Don't worry about us."

Victor smiled and turned to leave. He looked back long enough to tell them he'd look for them afterwards and then disappeared into the crowd. Terra looked up at a spot on the ceiling, obviously uncomfortable at being left alone with Rachel. Beside her, the cellist was just as awkward. This was an opportunity, she knew, but had no idea how to proceed. How do people strike up a conversation? What could she talk about with Terra; it didn't seem like they had a lot in common aside from being uncomfortable in a party. Or maybe that was just her.

"Do you want a drink?"

It took a few seconds for Rachel to realize that it was Terra that was asking her, and when she did, all she could do was nod. Terra led her to a long table where a couple of guys were serving out drinks in red beer cups.

"What's in this?" Terra asked as she took two cups.

"Stuff that'll make you feel good," one of them answered. His friend rolled his eyes and gave them a friendly smile. "Don't worry, it's just soda and vodka," he said.

Terra smiled back and raised a cup to him. "Thanks."

As they walked away, Rachel looked over her shoulder to catch the friendly guy staring at them. She knew who he was gawking at and she chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Terra asked, taking a sip from her cup. "I could use a laugh."

"Soda and Vodka guy has a thing for you," Rachel answered.

Right on cue, the DJ put on a saucy remix of Havana, which just made the atmosphere spicier. Rachel could see Terra blush over the lid of her cup. "I bet he's friendly to all the girls," she said.

They both turned their gazes at the long table, where Soda and Vodka guy and his friend kept on serving drinks. He looked up just in time to meet Terra's eyes, and he smiled.

"Mmm, I don't think so," Rachel teased. She grinned as she dodged a playful slap from Terra.

III

Kori felt breathless and alive. Everything around her was bright and loud and it made her feel ridiculously giddy. It wasn't her first party, but it was the first where she didn't spend the entire night avoiding drunk boys trying to get her into a dark corner of the room. Her hair flew all over the place as she danced with Richard and Gar, the latter proving to be a very proficient dancer. It didn't take long for a girl or two to invite him to dance with them. She and Richard laughed when Gar looked back at them, smiling widely like a kid on Christmas.

"Well, someone's enjoying himself," Kori giggled, leaning closer to Richard so he could hear. She could smell his cologne and a faint musk that was uniquely him. It made her blush.

"Do you think it'd be a good idea to loosen his leash a bit?' Richard asked.

"Most definitely," Kori answered, pulling him deeper into the crowd and farther from Gar. They stopped far enough for them to keep tabs on him every once in a while. She saw Roy approach Gar, making the blonde giddier with a slap on the back and a beer cup. Richard followed her gaze and smiled wryly.

"Don't worry, Roy wouldn't spike a drink. Especially when my friends are drinking," he offered, giving rest to a concern Kori didn't even notice was blooming inside her. She must've been wearing it on her face for Richard to pick up on it so fast. Or maybe, he just knew her well. She gave him a smile. "I guess I should consider myself grateful to be your friend."

"Why's that?"

"The perks are amazing."

Richard's smile remained intact, but Kori could see the light go out in his eyes. It made her laugh. "I'm kidding, Grayson."

The light came back just as fast as it had gone out, and Richard gave her a reprimanding look. His voice, however, was teasing. "You're not funny, Anders."

"Maybe not, but I'm a great actress." She meant it as a joke, but hearing it hit something real inside her, and her laugh came out weaker. She was a great actress, and her sister was a controlling director. Just the thought of her sister threatened to dim everything around her, and she desperately shook it off. She was with friends; she was with Richard. She didn't need to act around them. She smiled wider, elated to feel that it was sincere, and pulled Richard's hand. "I'm also a good dancer, so it's time to find out if you can keep up."

"Is that a challenge, Anders?" Richard asked, his lips turning up at one corner. His face was shrouded in shadows and highlighted by strobe lights; it made him look more mysterious…and dangerous. A thrill rushed through Kori.

"Go big or go home, Grayson."

Time flew by in an indistinguishable whirl of lights, music bouncing against the walls and knocking loudly at their eardrums, and bodies pressing against them from every direction, but all Kori could feel was Richard's hand, always respectfully present on her arm to keep her close. He wasn't a bad dancer, but he was not good enough that Kori teased him about it, and they spent most of the night laughing with and at each other.

"Can't you see that I love nobody else?" some people shouted along with the music. Kori didn't know the song, but she shouted with them. A girl with a beautiful afro smiled at her, and they shouted the chorus together, Kori whooping at the parts she didn't know. When she turned back towards Richard, he was wearing a smile that she had never seen on him. It was tender and curious, and it made her heart flutter. She stepped closer to him and snaked her arms around his neck and whispered where the others screamed, "Can't you see that I love nobody else?"

She closed her eyes as Richard leaned down and touched his lips against hers. Kori opened her eyes a bit, ready to push deeper into the kiss, when she caught sight of Rachel. Stoic, calm Rachel, eyes wide and shouting, her voice drowned out by the music. On one hand was an empty beer cup, on the other was a phone. She looked up and met Kori's eyes.

A coldness gripped Kori fiercely and she jerked away from Richard. He looked at her, confused and concerned. "Kori? Is something…" He looked back, following her gaze, just in time to see Gar running towards Rachel and grabbing the phone from her hand.

III

"How should I approach?"

Rachel gave Terra a look that made the blonde snort at her own question. "Terra, do I look like someone who knows how to approach a guy?"

"Well, that makes two of us, so I think it would be wiser to abort the mission."

"I'm not sure Soda and Vodka guy is ready to give up on you just yet." Rachel nodded over Terra shoulder. Soda and Vodka guy was leaving his place behind the drinks table and was slowly approaching them. Terra whipped her head back, her cheeks pinker than they were a moment ago. She placed her beer cup down on a table and quickly ran her hand through her hair, messing it up into a beautiful golden mane. "Do I have something on my teeth?" she asked Raven, flashing her a wide smile.

"No," Rachel answered quickly, turning around as Soda and Vodka guy tapped Terra's shoulder. She feigned disinterest as she listened to them striking up a conversation. Soda and Vodka guy introduced himself as Chester, offered Terra another beer cup and invited her for a drink out at the balcony. Rachel peeked over her shoulder; Terra threw her a giddy smile and mouthed "call me", jingling her phone. The holographic sticker at the back shone and blinded Rachel for a second. When she blinked, Terra was gone.

The disappointment that followed surprised her; she'd only spent an hour with Terra. But despite the awkwardness, they talked, and it felt good. She walked aimlessly from room to room, spending the better part of an hour looking for something to entertain her. She finally found herself in a hallway. There were significantly fewer people here, so Rachel decided to bide her time by looking at the portraits on the wall. At one end of the hallway, a tall glass cabinet stood. Inside were trophies and plaques, along with pictures of fraternity brothers who'd garnered the award. Rachel noted with amusement that one shelf laden with numerous medals and awards had only one picture in the middle of it all – a smiling Richard Grayson.

"Jesus," she whispered as she peered down each award. Two MVP trophies for the Jump City Collegiate Football Competition, a number of awards for journalism, another for some young entrepreneurs' summit, some from the university for outstanding work in the student government, and a whole lot of others that Rachel could not find time to read. "Way to make the rest of us feel unproductive."

Her eyes zoomed in on a picture beside one of Dick's MVP trophies. He was with a couple of other guys – his teammates, probably. One of them had an arm draped over Dick's shoulder while the other was holding up a dirty football jersey with a number 10. Above it, in a messy handwritten script, were the words "Boy Wonder". It was only then that Rachel realized that Dick was shirtless in the picture, and she almost choked on her drink. A flush crept up her neck and she felt ridiculous. She'd seen countless of shirtless guys before and her reaction was uncalled for. Maybe she was just used to seeing Dick so prim and proper to ever associate him to this rugged and attractively toned –

"Like what you're seeing?"

Rachel stood up straight with a hiss. Roy Harper stood just a few inches away from her. His hands were behind him, but he was too close for comfort and Rachel took a subtle side-step away from him. He bent down to look at the picture she was staring at previously and smiled. When he straightened up, his eyes were a little distant. "We started calling him that when we were half-way through our freshmen year. His teammates decided to make it official and printed out 'Boy Wonder' on all his jerseys. Pissed him off for a week."

"And here I thought he'd be honored.'

Roy shook his head. "Nah. Dick's not good with compliments. He says it makes him feel awkward."

Rachel nodded and took a sip of her drink, only to find her cup empty. "You two close?"

Roy shook his head again. "We're friends, but not good friends. Just good enough to know what pisses each other off, I guess." He nodded at her cup. "Want me to get you another one?"

This time, Rachel shook her head. "I'm planning to leave sober, thank you."

"Boring, but wise. Another cup of that would probably get you light-headed enough to see stars, anyway."

Rachel scoffed. "It'll take more than Vodka to hit me."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. But Vodka and a dash of Purple can be…lethal." He finished with a sly grin, and Rachel felt her blood turn cold. She looked at her empty cup, then back at the redhead grinning at her as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't just told her that the drinks were spiked. She didn't know why she was surprised; she'd been to a lot of parties, drank a lot of spiked drinks. But the thought nagging at the back of her head was Terra taking the beer cup from Chester and running off with him, alone.

She pushed past Roy, who called for her and grabbed her arm. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She growled and shoved him away. "Nothing. I just expected Richard Grayson to hang out with some better people."

Roy frowned. "This is college, girlie. Spiking drinks isn't something new. And it's not like we go overboard with the stuff; I make anyone mixing the drinks know the limits."

"Do you?" A raw fear gripped Rachel. She remembered Chester's smile as he told Terra that it was only soda and Vodka; remembered Chester's gaze following them out of the room; remembered Chester handing Terra a new drink without either of them seeing how he'd prepared it.

"Yes," Roy answered defensively. "I told to put only enough to get everyone buzzed."

Rachel curled her lips in disgust and walked away from him. Her eyes scanned the hallway and the rooms frantically, searching for a mop of familiar blonde hair. She underestimated the number of blondes enrolled in Lockhearth and cursed the size of the frat house. How was she supposed to find Terra in this big ass maze? She pulled out her phone, grateful that Gar had insisted on giving his and Terra's numbers to her the other day, and called Terra.

"Pick up," she whispered repeatedly, each ring escalating her fears. She kept walking and calling until her eyes caught something on top of one of the tables. She shook her head in denial, the hand holding her phone going limp at the sight of a phone with a holographic sticker.

III

"I can't find her, and she left her phone on a table. She wouldn't do that; she told me to call her before they left."

Rachel's voice was uncharacteristically hoarse and broken; in fact, everything about her right now seemed uncharacteristic. Her eyes were wide and crazed, her complexion paler than usual, and her hands were fidgeting, completely different from her usually calm and collected self. It only added to Gar's hysteria.

His panic grew as he went from room to room, craning his neck and clutching Terra's phone tight. Rachel and Vic trailed behind him, looking around just as frantically as he was.

Kori, Dick and Karen went searching in the upper floors of the house.

"Chester mentioned that he wanted to take Terra to some balcony," Rachel said, her voice wavering slightly at the end.

"What does this Chester guy look like?" Gar asked, not bothering to look back at her. His eyes were too busy scanning through the sea of people. What seemed to be a fun crowd just minutes earlier now seemed like an irksome distraction, and he itched to push each one of them away to look for his friend.

Rachel bought a hand to her forehead, eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated. "He was tall, with light brown hair and…and he was wearing a red shirt with their frat symbol on it."

"That could be anyone."

"I'm sorry," she exclaimed in frustration. "I didn't get a good look at him. Terra was the only one who got to talk with him."

"Which was exactly my problem in the first place," Gar looked behind just enough to give her a glare.

Rachel stopped, her mouth set in a thin line. Every part of her screamed how sorry she was, and Gar knew he was giving her a hard time, but frankly, he couldn't care. Not right now. Not even when Vic gave him the coldest look he'd ever seen. They went through one last room before Gar raced upstairs to join Dick and the others. He wanted to be the one to find that Chester asshole. He wanted to be the one to find out that Terra was okay, that this was all just a big false alarm, that she was never in any danger. Because if she was, he didn't think he could forgive himself.

"Where are the balconies here?" was all he said when he caught up with the others.

"Two out front and two at the back," Dick answered swiftly. He could sense the tension from Gar, could sense the thread that was so close to snapping.

"I'll take the ones at the back."

"Wait, Gar-"

"Just check the other ones, will you?"

Kori, Dick and Karen looked at each other, but obliged. It wouldn't help anyone if they pushed Gar now. He snaked his way through people laughing, and drinking, and making out. Every once in a while, he'd spot a blonde head, and his heart would race with relief only to plummet into disappointment at finding out that it wasn't Terra. It added to his frustration, and he got angrier with every minute that passed.

He burst into the first balcony like a madman, surprising a couple in the middle of a very steamy session. After apologizing half-heartedly, he raced out and made his way to the second one. He opened the French doors to find Roy with some other people.

"Hey, Gar right? How are you liking-"

Gar walked up to him with his jaw and fists clenched. "One of your frat brothers drugged my friend," he spat bitterly.

Roy's eyes darkened. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled sharply. "Do you have any idea who it was?"

"Rachel said it was a guy named Chester."

Roy nodded in recognition. "He was manning the drinks table tonight."

"Rachel also mentioned something about him bringing Terra to a balcony."

Roy thought for a moment, then gestured for Gar to follow him. "I think I know which one."

They raced through the hallways, Gar indifferent to the people shouting at their backs after he pushed them aside. They reached the room leading to the balcony the same time as Dick and the others arrived.

"We got sidetracked by some fool claiming he knew where this Chester dude was," Vic explained, his eyebrows bunched together in anger.

Gar pushed the doors open and stopped at the sight of Terra leaning against the stone railings of the balcony. Her eyes were closed and her limbs limp as some guy was kissing the length of her neck, his hands travelling down her hips. Another guy matching Rachel's earlier description of Chester was laughing as he watched from an outdoor reclining chair. Gar's animalistic growl was all that tipped them off before his fist collided with the face of the one against Terra.

Everything was chaos after that. Someone was calling him, someone was screaming, someone was struggling beside him, but they all seemed distant. All he could hear and feel was his fist connecting with the asshole's jaw once more. A pair of hands grabbed him from behind, and it took him a moment to figure out it was Dick.

"Enough, Gar!" he shouted. No, it wasn't even near enough. He lunged towards the guy crawling back against the wall, and this time, Roy stepped in to help. Caged between two stubborn bodies, Gar had time to look around him. Karen and Kori were propping Terra up, the latter holding her hair away from her face as she vomited. Not far from them, Vic was holding Chester by the collar of his shirt, his fist raised as he screamed at him. He couldn't exactly hear what he was saying, but he strained to catch some of the words.

"…lying son of a bitch…I swear, I'm going to…"

Gar saw a sneer form on Chester's lips. "She wanted it. She didn't even fight us."

It wasn't Vic who struck him, but Rachel. She pushed him against the railing and screamed, "You fucking drugged her, you piece of shit!" Vic pulled her away just in time to stop Chester from lunging at her. It only took one strong arm to push at his neck and keep him down. "You move, and I'll beat your ass up," Vic threatened through clenched teeth.

Gar's eyes travelled back to Kori and Karen; he saw Terra looking at him through hazy eyes. "Terra," he exhaled. Dick and Roy let him go. He ran towards her and grabbed her face. "Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?"

Terra shook her head but said nothing aside from, "I'm sorry," in low mutters.

Everything around seemed to settle down gradually. Roy had called some of the other frat members to help detain Chester and his friend. He looked back at Dick, clearly expecting something. The latter was fuming, but said nothing.

Roy nodded. "We'll talk later."

Roy stepped out and everything went quiet. Only Terra's heavy breathing pierced the silence.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said in a voice so small Gar almost didn't catch it. "I…I should have known..I should've known the drinks were spiked-"

"Yeah, you should have," Gar snapped before he could stop him.

Rachel flinched and took a small step back. She was sorry – beyond sorry –but Gar was also beyond pissed, and the weariness of the whole night was taking its toll on him. "You should've fucking known! You should've been with Terra, but you let her go with some complete stranger. Was it too much to ask you to spend just a few more minutes with her? Or were you just too deep in your emo shit to care?"

"Gar," Vic warned.

Kori stepped closer to Rachel. "Garfield, that's not fair."

"You're damn right it isn't!" he screamed despite some part of him agreeing with Kori, despite Terra tugging insistently on his arm. "While she was enjoying herself, Terra was up here with people she didn't know and was almost-" his jaw clenched. He couldn't bear to think what could've happened had they not arrived in time.

"Garfield," Rachel said, "I'm sorry."

Gar didn't look at her, because he knew that if he did, he'd see that she was telling the truth. He couldn't be mad at her, then. And he needed someone to be mad at. Terra was almost hurt, and he needed someone to be mad at aside from himself.

"Just…go away, Rachel," he said.

It took a few moments for him to finally look up. There was an empty space between where Vic and Kori stood.

* * *

 **I hope this chapter was not too terrible. I feel like I should explain myself about the development with Gar. I just felt like he was usually the first one to make friends and offer so much of himself willingly, and it seemed understandable that he would also be the first one to feel greatly when faced with the prospect that not everything about his relationships with other people were what they seemed.**

 **also, the song that Kori sang in the middle of the story was Nobody Else by Retrovision, Raven & Kreyn.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello Reader,**

 **you might notice that thing's might be happening a bit fast in the next following chapters, and I did that intentionally to match the story entering into a more chaotic mood. I hope it turned out better than I pictured it out to be.**

* * *

The sun bled into the sky, a ball of brightness in the middle of a sea of deep purple and tinted pink. Kori watched from her window; she'd been watching since morning. It's been two days since the party. The Brunch Club did not meet yesterday. It left Kori a bundle of messy emotions, and it made her feel bad considering what Terra had been through. The blonde was tough, though, laughing through gritted teeth. She was trying hard to make it seem like she was fine, but Kori could see through her smiles, could see through the I'm okay's and the don't worry's. Kori could see the anger and the frustration about not being able to do anything about it. Terra had gone to the counselor's office the next day and never even made it past the secretary - she was told to fill up some forms and to wait for some call from the office.

Richard was just as mad. He had confronted Roy after the party, and no matter how many times Kori asked, he would not tell her what happened. All she knew was that Richard was no longer a member of the fraternity, and this was something she heard from Victor. Gar was more of his old self, but there was a distance there, a tension that was fragile and easily fanned into something worse by the smallest things. They had no idea where Rachel was or how she was doing.

Everyone was angry, and none of them were talking about it. It wasn't for lack of trying for Kori's part, however, she could only take so much polite rejections. She was being petty, she knew, but Richard's refusal to talk with her bothered her deeply than she cared to admit. Weren't they getting closer, knowing and opening up more to each other? Why was this wall suddenly between them?

Kori groaned, rubbing at her eyes in weariness and frustration. She was being petty – petty and selfish. But she could not help it. She wanted so much to vent, to tell someone about how mad she was, how she wanted to help Terra, how she wanted to see Rachel, how she wanted Richard to talk with her. She wanted Gar to listen, she wanted Vic to be there, she wanted…she just wanted her friends.

The realization hit her like a punch in the gut and she couldn't stop the tears from falling. She heard her bedroom door open and close. She sighed heavily, but she did not look back. "Donna, I'm not-"

"You are not what?"

Kori could feel her sister's glare before she even met those cold, black eyes, darker than any shadow she'd ever seen. Her mouth was set in a grim line, almost as if she felt sorry for Kori. Almost. Kori knew better than to hope for the impossible.

"What happened yesterday, Kori?'

The question confused Kori, until she remembered an invitation from last week – dinner with her sister. She was supposed to bring Richard with her. The weariness and hopelessness that had plagued her since that fateful Friday night suddenly became too much to bear, and she could feel herself crumbling. The past month seemed like a distant memory from years ago, the happiness and camaraderie with her friends a painful yearning that seemed so far away. A weight she had not felt for days had returned, pushing down on her shoulders, threatening to make her kneel. She ticked down the bulletpoints in her head – straighten your back, tuck your hair behind your ears, smile charmingly – and the mask was almost on her face when she stopped.

What _happened_ yesterday?

Kori had never forgotten about anything pertaining to her sister, and it was a testament to how distraught she was that she did. One of her friends was drugged and almost raped, everyone was an emotional mess and nobody was talking about it. Nothing so bad had ever happened to her to make her disregard her sister before and something irrational rose up inside of Kori. Something irrational told her to that maybe – maybe – Camille would listen today.

"I asked you a question, Kori."

"We went to the football game last Friday," Kori blurted out before she could think it through further. "Me and Richard, and our friends. We went to a party afterwards-"

"Kori, that's not what I asked-"

"And something happened. Something…Terra…my friend was drugged. And they took her…they almost molested her-"

"Kori-"

"She told the university, Camille, but they wouldn't…they wouldn't do anything! They told her to wait but they're doing nothing!"

Kori was aware of her shrill voice, of the dangerous glint in Camille's eyes that told how close she was to losing her composure, but she went on. She went on until she could force Camille to listen.

"They were Richard's fraternity brothers. And they're still there. They haven't been expelled or suspended or anything."

Camille's mouth remained a thin, grim line, but her eyes were daggers in the night. They stabbed at Kori, and she tried not to flinch. "Is this why you and Richard weren't present for dinner yesterday?"

Kori let out a shaky breath. She was listening. "Yes! We…we were trying to figure things out, to help Terra. Richard tried talking to his frater-"

"Why are you telling me this, Kori?"

"Because…because…" Kori paused, surprised at the truth that hit her like a freight train. "Because you can help me." The realization brought with it an immense self-loathing and a painful longing. Self-loathing at the knowledge that despite the hungry need to prove herself, she still needed Camille, and longing for her sister's comfort, for the assurance that no matter how much Camille disliked her, of course, she'd help because they were family.

Camille looked away, her eyes distant but nonetheless cold. Kori kept quiet, afraid that anything she would say her on out would put the fragile state of their conversation to an end. After seconds that felt like hours, Camille finally spoke. "I think it would be best if you moved back to the house for a while."

Kori was confused. What did her sister meant by that? Was she being punished? Was this some sort of protection? Was Camille going to do something? It seemed like the only logical explanation to her, that Camille would want her close to keep her safe. "I'm not afraid of them going after me."

Camille snorted, a cruel and familiar sound that pulled Kori back down from whatever cloud she'd foolishly allowed herself to fly on. "Kori, I couldn't care less for the people you waste your time with. What I do care about is that you're wasting an opportunity that's been hand to you on a silver platter. I will not have you lose Richard Grayson's attention because you're too busy gallivanting god knows where with god knows who." Camille took a few steps closer towards her, her heels clacking menacingly against the wooden floor boards. Camille had always detested it, and had demanded that Kori purchase a carpet. She was thankful she didn't buy one; her sister rarely visited her anyway. When Camille spoke, her voice was low but nonetheless wicked. "I did not take you out of the goddamned orphanage so you could waste your time with people who are no use to me," she spat out, venom in every word.

"I do not understand," Kori whispered, shaking her head. "Richard-"

"Richard Grayson is in your company because I allowed it." Camille's words echoed around the room, as if the walls themselves agreed with her and repeated them in solidarity. "If you aren't half as useless as I think you are, you'd make the most out of his interest towards you. I won't lose the opportunity of solidifying a concrete connection with Bruce Wayne just because you're too stupid to act the part that's been given you."

"Given me?" Kori asked, indignant beyond reason, angry beyond rational thought. "Richard is my friend."

Camille's claws were on her face in a second, nails digging painfully into her cheeks. Her grip was steel and her eyes were fire. "You ungrateful little bitch," she hissed. "And how do you think Richard Grayson noticed you? With your charming personality? Your impressive aptitude?" Her insults were made heavier with the sneer that came with it. "He noticed you because you're beautiful, Kori. You are my greatest investment, dear sister, and you are entirely at my disposal. Everything you do is because I gave you permission, and everything you have is because I let you have it. That includes Richard Grayson." Camille let her go with a shove and Kori was tempted to just give up and let herself fall.

"You will pack your things and be back at the house tonight." Camille's eyes turned to dangerous slits as she continued, "Don't test me, Kori. You don't want to know what I'll do if you disobey again." Her heels echoed throughout the walls even as she descended the stairs and went out the door.

The silence that fell down on Kori's room was an unwelcome one. Her sister's voice kept screaming in her head, making her deaf to everything but her words. "Everything you do is because I gave you permission, and everything you have is because I let you have it. That includes Richard Grayson." She heard it again and again and again, a validation of an awful fact she'd been trying to deny time and time again: she belonged to Camille. No amount of time, or distance, or friends could change that.

Without thinking, she grabbed a coat and walked out of her room, out of her sorority house, and towards nowhere in particular. The sky was turning into a gradient of blues and violets. Streetlights lit the college campus, and Kori could make out a few students walking. Some were in pairs, others in groups, but most of them were alone. It got her thinking, were they walking towards something or away from something? With a bitterness that was familiar to her, she wished it was the latter. She felt bad for wishing it on other people, but knowing that someone else aside from her was also having a shitty day made the hopelessness tolerable. These were thoughts she kept secret, thoughts she only whispered to herself. She could never wish ill on someone, but during times like these, she wished to burn everything down with her.

She kept walking for what seemed like hours until she reached the football field. A few people were jogging around the Track oval but the field lights were off. Kori went up a few steps and sat at the far end of the bleachers, covered in shadow and away from everyone else. She looked up. The stars were just starting to show. A few dark clouds were scattered across the sky, and Kori wondered if it would rain. She wondered if she'd care enough to move if it did.

"Everything you do is because I gave you permission, and everything you have is because I let you have it. That includes Richard Grayson."

Kori had never felt this hollow before. Maybe because she had more to lose this time. The Brunch Club, Richard…they were the best things to happen to her, and hearing Camille claim them had been painful. Kori had wanted to deny it, to say that her friends were her friends because she'd allowed herself to open up to them, not because Camille had allowed her the luxury of having some. But her sister had a way of making her doubt her own thoughts and words, and Kori couldn't be so sure anymore.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Kori shat up at the gravelly drawl and turned to see Rachel sitting just a step above her. Her Cello case lay beside her.

"What are you doing here?" Kori asked, incredulous. Rachel looked completely relaxed, as if nothing had happened last Friday. A lit cigarette hung between her fingers, casting a faint, eerie light over her features. The only sign of distress that Kori could see were the dark circles under her eyes. "Where have you been?"

Rachel raised a brow, its graceful arch strangely captivating. "I didn't know I had to report to any of you about my whereabouts."

Kori ignored the jibe and scampered up the step to sit beside her. Her eyes never left Rachel, afraid that she would vanish in a burst of smoke the second she did. "I've been looking for you since yesterday."

Rachel took a drag from her cigarette and let out a plume of white smoke. As it gradually disappeared into the inky blackness of the sky, she asked, "Is Terra alright?"

"She's…fighting." Rachel cast her a questioning look, and Kori continued. "She reported it."

"They won't do anything about it."

Although Kori already had an inkling about it herself, hearing it from Rachel made it seem final. There was no hesitation when she said it, and Kori could not handle the desperation she felt at the thought that Terra was fighting a losing battle, that Camille was right, that none of them could do anything. "How would you know?" she ground out in a voice so unlike her.

Rachel looked her dead in the eyes, unfazed and unforgiving. "I know a lot more than you think, Kori."

"Then why haven't you come to help?" Kori demanded. "We've been trying to help Terra since the party and you haven't even come to ask about her yourself." The emotions were overwhelming her, spurring her words out of her mouth unchecked.

"Garfield made it very clear that I wasn't wanted there anymore."

"But Terra didn't, Rachel," Kori spat her name with venom, the most she had ever shown in her life. "If you know so much about things here, you should have helped her instead of hiding somewhere making us look for you."

Rachel frowned, the first deviation to her face that she'd made since they talked. The dull haze in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a fire that would've scared Kori had she not felt that same righteous anger bottled up inside her for so long. "I didn't ask for any of you to go looking for me. I didn't even ask to be part of this stupid research group in the first place."

"Then leave," Kori screamed, standing up and staring down at Rachel. "Why do you keep staying if you hate being with us so much?"

"I never said I hated any of you!" Rachel screamed back. She opened her mouth to say more, but froze. This conversation was painfully familiar, and the last time she exchanged words with a person like this, she'd been promised a friendship that was too quickly taken back.

III

"Where are we going, Garfield?" Rachel groaned, the weight of the books in her arms dragging her down. She looked up to find they'd only gone halfway up the stone steps and she regretted not saying yes to Gar's offer to carry the books for her.

"Just keep walking, Rae. You'll see when we get to the top."

Rachel knew for a fact that these steps led straight to the old church. Nobody used it for mass anymore, but the city preserved it as a historic landmark, although they weren't doing a bang up job of securing it. Countless of teenagers had used the church as a meeting place to drink or hang out. No one ever complained about the trespassers and Rachel wasn't sure whether it was reverie over the church's holy history or fear over rumors of it being haunted that kept officials away.

They stepped into a derelict garden. Weeds and vines crawled all over the ground and climbed the moss-covered stone hedges, appearing both beautiful and eerie in whatever sunlight was left. Garfield led her through the enormous hard wood doors left ajar by the previous visitors.

"Up there," Garfield nodded towards a spiral staircase in the far side of the pews.

"Another set of stairs?" Rachel complained. Her arms were already aching at the prospect.

"Come on," Garfield said, taking the books from her. "It will be worth it." He took the stairs two steps at a time and it wasn't the first time Rachel wondered where he got all this boundless energy. She followed more slowly, acutely aware of how this deviated from her usual…activities. She shook her head. Rorek was the last person she wanted to think about while she was with Garfield. Despite his open-mindedness, she was pretty sure there was only so much he could take. She passed through a low, open door and stepped out unto a rickety wooden pathwalk, cobwebs hanging from every surface and clockwork gears wedged near the wall. It was a scene straight of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

"Catch up, Rae!" Garfield called out from above her. He was on level on top.

"Would you like me to swing up there ala Quasimodo?"

"If you want to. But there's another staircase if you walk ahead."

"Of course there is."

"It's just a few more steps."

"That's what you said a couple of steps ago."

The church was not a particularly tall building, but it stood on top of a hill overlooking the city, and as they stepped towards the ledge of the rooftop, Rachel could make out the university from the sea of streets and infrastructures. Rachel never had an affinity for Jump City, but seeing it like this, beyond the humdrum of people and everyday life, she had to admit that it was beautiful. The sun was starting to set and the buildings' glinted as they caught the last few rays.

"Beautiful, huh?" Garfield whispered, leaning against the ledge. "Terra and I first discovered this when we were kids. It was Halloween and I dared her to go inside." He laughed then, and Rachel couldn't help smiling along with him. "You can only imagine how terrifying this old church was during Halloween night. But when we got to this rooftop…" He didn't need to finish it; Rachel understood how he must've felt back then. She could feel it now, the lightness of being away but being near at the same time, of witnessing but not partaking, of being part of something without having to try so hard. That's how she felt as she looked out the countless rooftops, the throng of people going to and fro, the endless line of cars driving through the streets. It made her feel vulnerable, but oddly accepted. As if the city itself was assuring her that it was okay, she belonged.

"You okay?"

She turned to find Garfield looking at her, his usually bright blue eyes now the color of the deep sea. She found it fascinating how his eyes changed so easily with how he felt. "I was thinking how a couple of kids managed to sneak in here during Halloween night. Haven't you heard of kidnappers? Serial killers? Pennywise the clown?"

"You clearly haven't seen me and Terra in action. We're like a pair of double O sevens. I guess that makes us...014?"

"You're painfully not funny, Garfield."

"But seriously, our parents had no clue. Me and Terra would go everywhere. Halloween was a piece of cake, seeing as my parents were too busy scaring kids off our front porch dressed as monsters," Garfield chuckled to himself, eyes distant as he remembered something. Rachel wanted to ask him what it was, to let her in on the joke, and to try and make her understand what Halloween felt like with a friend. Instead, he shook his head and asked, "How about you? Ever a naughty memory?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow, and Garfield slapped a palm across his forehead. "Okay, that sounded gross. But, you know what I mean."

She couldn't quite say what made her do it – it might've been the lightness, it might have been the feeling of belonging, it might have been Garfield himself, but she found herself saying, "It was just me and my mother. I…never knew my father."

Garfield was quiet, and she knew from experience that he didn't know what to say, so he spared him the trouble. "I remember one Halloween, though. I wanted to go out with the other neighborhood kids, but I didn't have a costume. So, I dug around our basement for something old I could pass off as some Wizard's robe or something. I found a dress. It was stained dark red and absolutely terrifying to look at. I asked my mother if I could use it as a costume. She looked at it for a long time, then said she thought it wouldn't be appropriate, but go ahead."

"Did you…did you wear it?"

"I didn't get past our neighbor's house. The moment she saw me in the bloodied dress, she screamed and called the cops. I didn't understand at first; all the other kids had blood on their costumes too. Turned out that mine was…a little too real."

"Rae, you don't have to-"

"It wasn't until a few months later that I found out. My mom was wearing that dress when she was pregnant with me and she downed a bottle of pills."

The air grew colder, and the lightness started to fade, as if the city had been listening and was just as shocked. Rachel could feel the disbelief and horror coiling around Garfield and she turned to look at him. "You don't have to say anything, Garfield. I didn't tell you that story so you could feel sorry for me."

"Then why did you tell me?'

"Because…" Rachel pressed her lips together. "I don't know. It just felt…okay. Like, it was a good time to say it." She waited, then, to see what would happen. She could almost picture Garfield backing away and running back the way they came. She wouldn't hold it against him if he ran away from this; hell, she'd been trying to run away from it herself for years. As open-minded as Garfield was, she was sure there was only so much he could take. He didn't ask to share this hell with her, and she wouldn't ask him either.

Instead of running, Gar sat down, his back against the ledge, and patted the space beside him. They spent the next few hours talking about the most mundane things. Garfield talked most of the time; he shared memories from his childhood, stories about his parents and Terra. He talked about Victor, and Rachel teased him about being such a fanboy. They talked about Kori and Dick and made bets about when they would make it official. They talked about Brunch club.

"You should give them a chance," Garfield said softly. Rachel did not answer, but she didn't say no either. "You could come with us to Vic's game tomorrow."

"I'm not the cheering type."

"You don't have to cheer. Just give him some good juju telepathically."

"I don't why I even bother. You're gonna make sure I come to that game no matter what."

"That's right. How about we make a deal?"

"Is it gonna cost me?"

"Just your presence. You come with us tomorrow, and I'll buy you Vic's Blue Ribbon Burger."

Rachel snorted. "Vic cooks for us every club meeting. That's not much of a deal."

"Come on, Rae."

Rachel didn't make him any promises, but as she stayed by his side, listening as he talked about the time Terra broke her arm jumping down a tree. She could feel Garfield's assurance that, somehow, she was accepted. That he would not be able to understand so much, but he wouldn't be the first to judge. And it was the most that Rachel had gotten from anyone in a very long time.

III

"I don't hate any of you," Rachel repeated, her voice hoarse. "I just…" She sat down, her Cello case slipping from her fingers and clattering on the floor in haunting, muffled notes. "I don't know what to do, Kori. I want to help Terra, I really do. But where do I even start?"

Kori sat down beside her and tentatively covered her hand with her own. Her golden skin contrasted greatly against her pale one, and Rachel was struck by the many ways they were different. It was ridiculous; what was she doing with this girl? How could she be friends with someone so happy and beautiful? When she looked into Kori's green eyes, the answer simple: It's possible. "You can start by showing up," Kori offered softly. "Terra would really like to see you, no matter what Garfield says."

Rachel looked down on their hands again. Golden tan against marble white. She and Kori were nothing alike, but here they were, two bothered souls drawing comfort from each other. Rachel had found Kori's magnetic personality intimidating; the redhead was so willing to give without pretense and Rachel had nothing left to give in her. What sort of friendship could one build from that?

III

Terra massaged the side of her neck. Her skin was clear, but in her eyes she could see the marks. She could see where his lips roamed, where his hands gripped her arms. She'd been waking up in a cold sweat for the past nights, trembling from a nightmare that was too real to simply just be a dream. After the fear came the anger and desperation. Nothing was happening. Days have passed and not a single counselor or administrator had called her. She still saw Chester and his friend walking around the campus, and her desperation paved way to hopelessness. They were still here, and after what she told, it would appear that they would continue to be.

Richard had found out that Chester and his friends were old money, sons to two of Jump City's oldest aristocratic families. There were university buildings carrying their surnames, their parents continued to make ridiculous amounts of donations, and they were third generation in the fraternity. All this meant one thing: they would not be held accountable for their actions. The university could not afford to let go of such…valuable investments. And she was just a working student trying to get through her loans.

Her fingers poked at the dark circles under her eyes. Recently, she and her friends have been sporting the same dark marks on their faces. She felt bad and frustrated for putting them through this. Kori and Richard barely talked to each other anymore; Vic hovered over her every second of everyday; and Gar pretended Rachel did not even exist. Only Rachel did not deviate from her usual behavior, and it brought some sort of comfort to Terra to see her treat her the same.

Opening up the café provided her a good distraction when her thoughts got too dark, the routine putting her mind to rest as her body took more control of her actions. She was wiping the tables when Gar came in, paperbag in hand and a smile on his face.

"Got you a croissant, mademoiselle," he crooned, hopping unto the counter and inviting her to sit with him. She found his energy lacking in sincerity and decided to confront him about something that has been bothering her as much as it's been bothering him.

"When are you gonna patch things up with Rachel?" she asked. She didn't have to look at him to know that he'd gone rigid. "You being a jerk towards her is getting kinda tiring."

"I got you the regular butter kind, but they have this new one with blueberries inside," Gar said, intentionally avoiding meeting her eyes and mindlessly groping inside the paperbag. "You won't believe the ridiculous price diff-"

"Are you listening, Gar?"

He stopped then and sighed, his shoulders sagging heavily. His demeanor changed drastically and she could see his eyes going dark. When they were younger, she'd playfully called the change, Gar's troubled face. "I always am, Ter."

"Really? Because I don't feel like you are."

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything."

"Stop being such an asshole and go talk to Rachel."

Gar's jaw clenched and he jumped down the counter and began pacing around the floor. "I can't do that, Ter."

"Why?"

"Because she was supposed to be with you!" His voice rose unexpectedly, and it angered Terra. "If she had just tried-"

"Tried what, Gar?" Terra threw down the rag hard on the ground and stomped towards him, bringing up her full height and still coming up short. But that never fazed her. Not before and not now. "Are you really listening? Because for the past days, all you've been blaming is Rachel and not once – not fucking once – have I heard you call out the assholes at that party."

"Terra, I-"

"I can't carry you right now, Gar. I'm going through enough hell on my own without having to mind whatever self-loathing you have over something none of us had control over. Nobody fucking asked for this, Gar - not you, or me, and not Rachel. And seeing you dump all your emotional baggage on her is disgusting and pathetic." The tears were streaming down without Terra realizing it. "I needed you, Gar. I needed you to help me fight against them, against a system that won't help me, not against Rachel."

They stood there, quiet and angry, with only Terra's heavy breathing breaking the silence. She was a jumble of emotions she could not sort out, and it felt so good to lash out. "I need my friends, Gar," she ground out. "All of them." She walked out of the café, leaving Gar alone with the weight of her words.

* * *

 **Zaacna : none of them are coming out of this the same. I feel kinda bad...am I being to much? Is there some sort of sadistic line no one crosses regarding fictional characters?**

 **SoniaBambini18 : Thank you. I, too, wish for my baby alpaca dreams to become reality.**

 **Moving Mountains : ooohhh, yes. Rorek's a dirty little secret, and I've prepared a rather dramatic reveal for him.**

 **Lovepeaceandwar : Mhmm, Gar's being a real class act right now. But, I'm hoping to give him - all of them - some good character development. HOPEFULLY. The llama gods know I barely get my priorities straight too.**

 **BTW, Yes, this will be RobRae, but I don't want to put too much attention to that.**


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